The Cost
by klipdoctor
Summary: The Russians didn't attack on the second day of the mission extension. Instead they came on the third. And they came more prepared. AU re-imagining of seasons 1 and 2 of The Last Ship.
1. Prologue

_Author's Notes at the bottom. I do not own The Last Ship._

 **Prologue**

 **4 October 2014**

Rachel Scott was cold. Very, very cold. But, like lots of things in her life at the moment, she couldn't afford the distraction of being cold, so she shut it out of her mind to focus on the task at hand.

They were so close.

Three days ago they had made a major breakthrough and yesterday they had successfully gathered some material from the primordial strain of the virus that was currently attacking the world. That was now safely tucked up on the USS Nathan James, but there had been a problem. She was just analysing the mass spectrometer results from the first sample when Quincy had told her that the other three samples they had gathered were contaminated and that they would have to come back today to gather more. She had almost screamed. They should have been heading back to the US that morning but instead they were back on the ice cap analysing drill cores. At least the mistake had allowed her to write up her notes ready for transmission and update her journal. Lots had happened in the last couple of weeks and she'd needed to write it up so that someone could follow up her work if anything happened to her.

However, with the samples they had collected today, she was now confident that they had enough to take back to the labs in the US and get to work synthesising a vaccine.

Finally, after four months digging around in the Arctic, seeing lab after lab, team after team, colleague after colleague fall out of contact, they could start heading back to the US. She hoped that there was still the infrastructure back home to come up with a vaccine. All of them couldn't be dead, could they? She had been in contact with Julius until two weeks ago when he had told her he was moving to a decentralised lab and would be in touch. But he never had been. She assumed that communication had just broken down and that was the issue. The alternative was just too horrific to contemplate. To be honest, it was Connie she missed the most. Friends were the new family after all, and to lose Brad and Connie within weeks of each other was nearly more than she could take. Connie had dropped off the grid just like Julius. There one day, gone the next. Rachel prayed that Connie was still out there somewhere. She couldn't bear the thought that her best friend was gone.

While it would be great to get out of the cold and get back to the ship, she wasn't looking forward to her reception there. For the first four months of the mission the crew had been friendly and outgoing. For the past few days they had been surly and taciturn, obviously taking their direction from their Captain.

She supposed she shouldn't be surprised. It probably didn't take a rocket scientist to work out that she was the reason their mission had been extended after their weapons tests were finished. While a small part of her mind had noted, when they met at Norfolk, that the Captain was quite aesthetically pleasing, it wasn't something she could focus on. And with the importance of her mission she had barely seen him in the past four months. In fact, she had spent more time co-ordinating transport with XO Slattery and Lieutenant Green, the commander of their escort. She'd hoped Chandler wouldn't be a Mark One Military Neanderthal, but their conversation three days ago had suggested he probably was. She knew she'd come on a bit strong, but her mission was absolutely vital and the Captain had not needed to be as sarcastic with her as he had, in her view.

At least the new National Security Adviser had acted quickly to extend the mission, although the new orders clearly hadn't pleased the Captain. But she knew that the Captain was going to be even more pissed off than he already was when he found out the reason for the mission extension and the radio silence. She didn't blame him; she would be in his position. But she was under clear orders from the President of the United States, via the Pentagon, to keep quiet about the Red Flu unless she felt her mission was endangered and there was no contact with the US. If that was the case she was entitled to give him the sealed orders which were currently sitting in her safe in her cabin. Hopefully it would never come to that.

"OK Quincy," she told her partner, sitting up and stretching her back, "I think we're about finished." Although not her usual partner, Quincy had done OK on this mission. With degrees in geochemistry and avian biology, as well as virology, he was much more suited for this study than her long-time co-worker Dr Bradley Dickens, which was a good thing because poor Brad had been killed in a car crash in Washington DC four days before they were due to leave for Egypt. While Quincy had worked in and around her team for nearly ten years, she did miss Brad who always went out in the field with her and who she felt was much more attuned to her thought patterns than Quincy. She took a second to remember Brad and it was then that she heard it.

"Do you hear that?" she asked Quincy, looking around.

"What?" he replied.

She looked around again. "For a second, I thought I heard a chopper," She wondered if maybe Captain Chandler had finally lost his temper and decided to clear them off the ice again. She started to pack up the samples into the two separate sample bags.

* * *

Lieutenant Artur Dmitrievich Voronov watched the woman start to put her stuff together through his sniper scope. When the Admiral and Captain had briefed the attack yesterday the initial plan had been to fly right in, but the more he thought about it, the less he liked it and after the bad weather yesterday had scotched the attack, and their agent on the American ship had arranged for the scientists to come back again today, he had suggested to the Captain a two-pronged attack. Which is why he and Boris Romanovich had been dropped off eight hours ago and had walked in overland. And it was a good thing too. They hadn't expected to find a SEAL team with a dog guarding the scientists.

But there was nothing Artur could do about that now as they had to be radio silent until the attack. He and Boris were still out of range of his rifle but the idea was that the helicopter attack would flush the Americans towards them and then they could take their shots to disable one or both of the scientists. He would need to do something about the dog as well. It was just as dangerous as any of the SEALs. In the mean-time he just needed to wait.

He wondered if his wife Lydia and his son Yuri were still alive. While a small part of his mind wondered if it might be better to leave the American scientists to develop a cure on their own, orders were orders and he needed to follow his. It wasn't like the Admiral didn't know what he was doing and his father, who had retired a Captain, had always had good things to say about the Admiral's leadership. He would follow the Admiral's orders since he seemed to be the only one who really seemed to know what to do when the flu came and the politicians started dying off. The Admiral seemed to have a plan and that needed to be followed through.

It was nearly time.

* * *

Lieutenant Kara Foster was just sipping her coffee in Nathan James' CIC when the contacts appeared on her screen. She'd been watching the two green dots, wondering what Danny and Frankie were up to. _Probably goofing off_. She thought. Little did she know that quite soon she would regret that thought.

She wasn't quite sure what to think about Lieutenant Daniel Green. Not so much about Lt Green. More about her relationship with him. That, in itself, was the problem because she was a lieutenant in the US Navy and she shouldn't be having a relationship with another officer on the same ship. She didn't know quite how it happened. It had never been an issue before. She prided herself on being professional and she had been. And then Danny came along with his cheeky smiles and sexy butt. But it wasn't just that. He was caring and gentle with her as well and she didn't think he was the type to have a fling on every ship he was on. She knew that she really had started to care for Danny and that she hoped it lasted, but all the time she worried about being discovered and losing everything she had worked for.

But she had to clear her thoughts quite rapidly as first two red dots and then two more appeared on the radar screen. "What the-?" she choked out as Mason called, " **Aircraft! Position seven six decimal three five north zero five nine decimal five eight zero!** " Then it all started to go wrong.

* * *

Lieutenant Danny Green looked up rapidly. _Is that a helo?_ he thought as Frankie looked up next to him.

" **Those aren't ours man.** " Observed Frankie as four helicopters flew towards them.

"No shit!" observed Danny, recognising the Russian Mil attack helicopters, " **They're Russian!** " The two Navy SEALs sprang into action, jumping on their snowmobiles and gunning them towards the scientists' position as they co-ordinated the anti-air with Smith and Berchem over their radios. He didn't even have time to think about where Halsey had gotten himself to.

"Shit!" gasped Danny as the Russian helo fired rockets at them, neatly bisecting him and Frankie. They took evasive action as they led the chopper towards the ridge, right into the path of Smith and Berchem who blew the chopper out of the air with a SAM. But there was still one more chopper, and as Smith turned around to steer back towards the scientists, it nailed their snowmobile with a rocket.

"No!" screamed Danny, but he had a mission and he had to focus on saving the scientists. Putting his concerns for his men to the back of his mind, he followed Frankie towards the position the scientists were working from.

As they drew in, the other chopper was circling. Obviously out of rockets, a gunner was strafing the scientists with a large calibre machine gun. The two SEALs jumped off their vehicles and started hosing the chopper down with their own guns. Bullet holes pock marked the fuselage and it spiralled into the ground and blew up. But the damage had already been done. While he could see Tophet on his feet, Dr Rachel Scott, erstwhile leader of the scientific mission was lying in the snow, with her legs surrounded by a halo of red snow.

"Frankie, get Tophet and go!" he screamed into his mike, "I'll get the Icebitch!"

"Yo Danny," replied his partner, "already on my way." He motioned to the man, "Come on Doc," The scientist didn't need to be told twice and clambered on. Frankie got on in front, gunned the engine and drove off, Tophet holding onto him for dear life. All the time Danny guarded the group, looking out for further threats.

He knelt down next to Dr Scott. "Where are you hit Doc?" he asked her.

"Leg," she gasped, "it's not serious." She added, "we need to get my samples." While she was a pain in the ass, Danny had to admire someone as mission-focused as that. He picked her up in his arms and gently put her down on the back of the snowmobile, then he picked up her box and gave it to her.

"OK Doc," he told her, "hold onto my waist and we'll get you back." Then he took one more look around the horizon, got on the snowmobile and started to follow Frankie.

Out at sea there were two large explosions and then two more. He heard the rapid-fire guns aboard Nathan James open up followed by an explosion, and then the crack of the five-inch, followed by another big explosion. _Shit, they hit Nathan James as well_. He hoped Kara was OK. She should be, buried in the depths of the ship in CIC. But now he needed to focus on his job.

"On the way Frankie," he called.

"OK man," replied his friend, "just one more ridg- SHIT! Enemy in-" Frankie was cut off and an explosion lit up the sky in front of him. As he crested the ridge, he saw Frankie's snowmobile on its side next to a big hole in the ground. Two bodies lay beside it. A black-clad figure was running towards the bodies but stopped and turned towards him. He gunned the engine, hoping to put off any targeting, and drove on past the wrecked snowmobile. Tophet had taken the brunt of the explosion and was blown in two. Frankie's arm was lying some distance from his body and he wasn't moving.

"You better be fucking worth it," he grunted to the Icebitch as he drove away, likely leaving his friend to die. As they slowed to crest the next ridge another black-clad figure appeared in front of them. As Danny turned to take evasive action an RPG exploded next to the snowmobile, blowing it in the air. Danny rolled over and came up firing, taking out the enemy soldier, but he got a shot in as well, hitting Danny's right arm. Danny rolled up, taking in the scene.

He couldn't see any other targets, but Scott was lying on the ground trapped by the snowmobile. She didn't seem to be in any worse shape but couldn't get out. She was still holding onto her samples, he noticed. He ran back to the vehicle, tying a tourniquet on his arm as he did so.

"Doctor, can you get out?" he questioned, keeping his gun out, one eye on her and one eye around them. He tried to shift the Snowmobile off her, but it was jammed fast and he didn't have the power with his arm injured.

"No," she said quietly. "Lieutenant Green, I know you don't like me, but I have to ask you to trust me and to do something you're really not going to like. I have to ask you to leave me here and make sure the samples get back to the ship."

"No way," he told her, "you're my mission. You're why my men are dead."

"You're wrong," she told him, looking him in the eye. "These samples are your mission. I kid you not. They could make the difference between life and death for a lot of people." His gaze sharpened on her. "I'm sure you don't think that unknown soldiers attack every bird-watching mission to the Arctic do you?"

"They're Russian, Ma'am," he told her.

"It doesn't really matter who they are Lieutenant. Will you obey my order?" she asked.

"Ma'am…"

"Look _lef_ tenant," she said, enunciating carefully, with her British accent getting the full "lef" out of the lieutenant, "let's be brutally honest here. I'm trapped and may not get out of here. There are still more enemies out there and, even if you do get me out, I'm an injured civilian and you're a highly-trained special forces soldier who can hide away or stay alive in difficult conditions and who can move a lot faster than me. Obviously, there's something wrong with the ship since they haven't contacted you or sent the helicopter to get us out which means that we might need to survive on our own for some time without support. These samples MUST get back to Nathan James. I'm not lying to you when I say the survival of the world may depend on it. I will slow you down and increase the risks of us getting caught. Now. Will you follow my order?"

He looked at her with new respect. It was clear that she believed in what she was doing and was willing to sacrifice her life for that. He made a decision.

"Yes Ma'am, I will."

She gave a tight smile. "Thank you, lieutenant. You'll understand when you get back to the ship, I'm sure. Now, time is short. Please tell the Captain that I'm carrying sealed orders from the Pentagon in the safe in my stateroom." _What?_ Did he just hear that right? She smiled at this reaction. "The code is my birthday, six digits," she paused, "And please tell the Captain I'm sorry he had to find out this way. I'm sorry you had to find out this way as well, and I'm sorry about your men, but you'll understand when you find out why. Now please, GO. And take my samples with you," she finished firmly, looking directly at him. There was sadness and empathy in her eyes. Something he had never seen before from her. Normally she was very formal with them.

"OK Ma'am," he replied, "good luck."

"You make it sound like goodbye," she replied with a half smile. "Just to make sure, when I get back to the ship, I'll be needing a tea, preferably by intravenous drip! It's in the box on the right-hand side of my desk in the lab," she told him.

He was grateful for her attempt to reassure him. He gripped her shoulder briefly with his left hand, hefted his rifle with his right hand (despite the pain), clipped her sample box to his belt and set off. He kept an eye on her position until he crossed the next ridge but didn't see anyone else. _Now_ _to disappear,_ he thought. He kept all of his concerns about Halsey, Frankie and the rest of his team out of his mind. He would grieve for them later, now he had to focus on the mission.

* * *

"Shit shit shit!" Captain Tom Chandler cursed up a storm. They had successfully destroyed the two enemy choppers (they had looked Russian but he couldn't be sure that they actually were) that had come for his ship but they'd taken some damage, with by far the most severe and mission-limiting being the damage to the helo bay door which meant it would be another hour before they could launch the helo to look for their ground teams. Short range communications had also gone out for about an hour due to a damaged line, but they were up again now.

But the problem was that the ground teams weren't transmitting, and he couldn't see them on radar. He had dispatched boat teams, but they were still 30 minutes out from the target area. And then it had got worse. About forty minutes ago, just over an hour after the initial attack, another airborne contact, obviously another helicopter, had come in, circled for 10 minutes, landed, then left. It seemed that the enemy had got what they wanted, and Tom Chandler had no idea what that was.

x

x

 _A/N 1 Dates are going to be really important in this fic. Thanks to Jules06 for pointing out the horrendous typo in the first version I uploaded. I've assumed that season 1 is set in 2014 and season 2 in 2015. I assume that episode 1 kicks off in May 2014, with the Russian attack around the beginning of October, arriving in Florida around 25 October 2014 and they arrive in Cuba around 26-27 October and get to Baltimore around the end of December 2014. I would expect they get to Norfolk towards the end of the first week of January. Dates are going to be very different in my version but I wanted to explain where I'm coming from._

 _A/N 2 So if all goes to plan (and we all know no plan survives contact with the enemy!) this fic should have about 25 chapters, of which about half are already written/planned. Fair warning, there are elements of this story that include quite disturbing scenes with mature (adult) content. If you don't like those sorts of stories, then this may not be the fic for you._

 _A/N 3_ _ **Bold**_ _text is dialogue directly quoted from The Last Ship episode, Phase Six._


	2. Vyerni: Chapter 1

_I do not own The Last Ship_

 **Part 1: Vyerni**

 **Chapter 1**

 **5 October 2014**

 _I didn't realise Nathan James had such a large sickbay_ thought Rachel as she woke up drowsily, wondering why she was here. The stark décor and scrubs made it clear she was in a hospital environment, but she really hadn't thought Nathan James had as many as six beds in her sickbay. She was conscious of a dull pain in her right thigh and it took her a while to work out what was going on.

 _Of course, the attack_. She had told Green to take the samples and he had vanished from her sight within a few minutes. She had relaxed, knowing that if anyone could get the samples to safety then it was a Navy SEAL. She had managed to stay conscious for about another ten minutes. Long enough to investigate her thigh injury, conclude it wasn't life-threatening and fashion a dressing for it. But she had lost a lot of blood and she had felt herself slipping away.

She wondered who had attacked them? She was sure the Captain would tell her after he finished being pissed off with her. She certainly wasn't looking forward to that conversation. She sighed, _why is everything always so difficult?_ But finally everything should be OK. Suddenly, she tensed and looked around. Something was wrong. The motion was different. Was she on Nathan James at all? The destroyer's motion had been much more choppy than this. She was definitely on a ship but this one was much bigger and it wasn't moving as much in the sea.

Someone came into the room and she looked up. _What the HELL?_

"Kelly? What are you doing here?" she questioned Quincy's wife.

"I'm sorry Rachel," was the woman's confusing reply, "it was all our fault."

"Err? I'm not sure what you're saying?" she questioned as a man in a formal dark uniform who looked quite senior followed Kelly through the door, followed by two more uniformed men. If she read the uniforms correctly the front man was an admiral of some sort and the others were captains or commanders. Even after four months on Nathan James though she wasn't great on uniforms and this was clearly a different navy.

"What Mrs Tophet is trying to say Doctor, is that on hearing that she was a guest of ours, your colleague the good Doctor Tophet has been helping us to find you." Seemingly unsurprised by Rachel's silence as she tried to comprehend what he was saying, the man continued, "Allow me to introduce myself Doctor, I am Admiral Konstantin Nikolajewich Ruskov and you are currently a guest aboard my flagship, the Vyerni." The admiral spoke in Russian-accented English. Although his knowledge of her language was good, he still had a strong accent.

 _Oh God_ , thought Rachel. Quincy had tried to sabotage their work. Even knowing what was at risk, Quincy had tried to slow them down. _Bollocks the three samples were contaminated! He kept us out there for an extra day._ While she supposed she could understand given that Kelly was a hostage, she couldn't quite compute. "Ava?" she asked looking at Kelly in concern.

"Ah, young Ava is in my cabin," answered the Admiral, "you will see her later. But since we needed to have a conversation about some adult topics, I decided that Ava's company wasn't needed."

Rachel looked at Kelly who nodded sadly in agreement with the Admiral's statement. She looked tense and uncomfortable.

"So, Doctor Scott," the Admiral continued, "how do you feel? I'm sorry that you were hurt when we came to get you, but unfortunately, needs must."

Rachel wasn't sure what to say.

"Oh come now Doctor Scott," the Admiral admonished, "this isn't like you. I've been hearing from our other guest about how chatty you are. That you're the life and soul of the party. I do hope this doesn't mean that we're going to have problems working together. That would be _most_ unfortunate." He finished, not quite threateningly.

"What happened to the Nathan James?" Rachel finally got out.

"Ah, concerned for your friends," replied the Admiral, "they are fine. Some way away from us now, I'm afraid. We are heading further south to get smoother seas and we stayed below the radar horizon from your friends so I'm afraid they can have no idea where you are. And if they know what's good for them then they will not be following you.

"I do hope we are not going to have any problems, Dr Scott," the Admiral continued, "I would like for us to have a productive working relationship."

"What do you want from me?" asked Rachel, hoping against hope that someone would be able to continue with her work.

"Ah, simply for you to carry on finding and preparing a vaccine for the red flu, Doctor Scott," replied the Admiral, "nothing more, nothing less. We have brought your samples back with us and we have a lab in which you can work. We even have a laboratory assistant for you. Obviously you are aware of the time pressure, Doctor. People are dying as we speak and we would very much like you to go as quickly as possible."

"That's it?" she asked, "Then why didn't you let me keep working for the Americans? I could have carried on my work there." _And all those people wouldn't have been killed_.

"Ah Doctor, surely you are not that naïve?" he looked at her pityingly, "The cure will be a strategic asset. Would the Americans really have sent it to us for free? I don't think so."

"I think you are wrong, Admiral," replied Rachel, "the Americans would never withhold a cure."

"Perhaps you speak of the American government of old, my dear. But that government no longer exists. The land of the free is no longer. Like every other country in the world it is now ruled by whoever has survived the longest. Given the history between our two countries, I would not be sanguine about the chances of the Americans giving us the cure. Much better for us to be in control of our own cure and then we can choose who to supply it to."

"If I develop a cure or even a vaccine for you, Admiral, I would expect it to be available to all," Rachel told him, wondering what the reply would be, "but I should caution you that it could take a very long time to develop one, particularly with no access to any other intellectual resources."

"Ah Doctor, I think we can table this discussion until you have developed a cure then. But you _will_ work with us?"

"It doesn't look like I have much choice, does it Admiral?" stated Rachel, knowing that she didn't but knowing that she would rather carry on working anyway and if she was successful in developing something she would have to see about getting it out into the world then.

"Ah Doctor Scott, I am glad you are a realist. That will make your stay with us much easier." The meaning of his words was plain. "I am told by our doctors that you can go back to your work tomorrow, but you should try to keep your weight off that leg in the mean-time. Perhaps you might like to join Kelly, Ava and the Captain here for dinner with me tonight?"

Rachel would like nothing less, "Oh, I can start working straightaway Admiral," she told him, "if you can get me a laptop,"

"Nonsense, Doctor Scott." He replied, "Let it not be said that I am not a good host. You will be escorted to my cabin at 19.00. Good afternoon Doctor," he turned away calling, "Come Kelly," after him. Kelly shot her a tense look and followed the Admiral and his officers out.

 **6 October 2014**

"You weaponised the virus? You monster!" Rachel stared at the creature inside the lab complex on the Russian battlecruiser. She had been escorted down to the lab by a lieutenant and a Russian sailor this morning.

After last night's dinner with Admiral Ruskov and some of his officers, she still felt dirty. One lieutenant in particular had spent most of the meal mentally undressing her which had been evident on his face the whole time. Ruskov had ignored it and just kept up a fairly one-sided conversation. Kelly and Ava had also been at the dinner and, while Ava seemed unharmed, Kelly evidently was not. The normally vivacious woman had been totally withdrawn during the meal and had not contributed to the conversation at all, apart from to answer Ruskov's questions about what she would like to eat. Rachel had seen that sort of change in behaviour before and it had always been associated with victims of domestic violence or rape.

The meal had been a salutary lesson in what could happen to her here if she wasn't very careful. That Ruskov was a monster was not in question. That he meant to use the virus as a strategic weapon was also not. He had made that very clear. However, while she was still a resource to him she would still have power and he was unlikely to touch her. She was very aware, however, that if she let her mouth get away from her then she would raise the risk of coming into his crosshairs. And it was also clear to her that if she was successful in making a vaccine, or even a cure, she would become a less important commodity very rapidly.

If she was successful, she'd better have a Plan B or this could go very wrong. But inventing a vaccine or cure was a long way in the future. Or so she'd thought before she'd been introduced to Niels Sorenson.

She wondered whether Roskov understood that in his laboratory on his Cold War era battlecruiser was the man that had effectively weaponised the virus, causing it to accelerate its penetration markedly and put the human race in danger of annihilation. She'd wondered why the virus had started to move so fast in the past few months. When they left Norfolk in early-summer the virus had been at Phase Two. She'd expected it might get to Phase Four by Christmas but instead, in the space of only four months, it had got to Phase Six. And now she knew why.

Oh, Sorenson hadn't come right out and told her, but he really was a motor-mouth and he hadn't been able to keep his mouth shut. It had been very clear once she'd pieced together the fact that he was clearly a carrier and that he didn't have symptoms, and his movements, who he was and what he'd done. And she was nearly speechless that he seemed to have no remorse.

As he prattled on about how he'd been so close to a major breakthrough and managed to add his gene to the virus, her mind was going a mile a minute trying to decide what to do. The primordial strain was out the window now. What he'd done to the virus made the primordial strain next to useless because he'd changed the nature of the virus.

"You killed four billion people," she grated out, cutting him off.

"I didn't!" he denied, "I tried to help. I can help. I can make the vaccine."

Making up her mind, she walked over to Lieutenant Voronov, who had introduced himself to her as her liaison this morning. "I'd like to speak to the Admiral please." The man stared at her, surprised by the animated reaction of Sorenson as he chased her across the lab still protesting his innocence.

She made eye contact with Voronov, "Please."

He nodded slightly, and gestured the guard to open the door.

* * *

The Admiral had been on the bridge and she'd tried to pay attention as she was escorted there and back after the meeting. She doubted they'd give her a tour, but one day her life may depend on knowing how to get around the ship. There was no doubt it was a big ship though, and her thigh was aching by the time they got to the bridge.

The Admiral had met her in his sea cabin, just behind the bridge. "Dr Scott," he greeted her, "To what do I owe this honour? I wasn't expecting you back so soon."

"Admiral, do you know who Sorenson is? What he's done?" she asked him.

"He told me that he was simply a researcher that got accidentally infected by the virus and made himself immune. Is that not the case?" he asked curiously.

"No Admiral, I'm afraid it's not." She told him. "Mr Sorenson is the man who changed this virus from a marginally dangerous bug into what you see today. Mr Sorenson is wholly responsible for the deaths of over four billion people, including your family. Mr Sorenson mutated the virus and then took it out of the lab environment and allowed it to spread among the population. Mr Sorenson has no remorse for what he's done. Mr Sorenson is a monster."

She was pleased to see that the Admiral hadn't lost all of his humanity. He had told her about his family at dinner last night. Describing his wife and grown up children. His face paled as she went through her litany of what Sorenson had done. At the end, he grated out, "Are you sure?"

"Quite sure Admiral," she replied.

He paused for a few moments, clearly trying to get control of himself.

"What should I do with Mr Sorenson then Doctor?" he asked, turning away from her. This was a dangerous subject and probably something of a test. Rachel knew that Sorenson himself was a weapon and she feared that Ruskov might decide to use Sorenson as such on his enemies. Ruskov probably knew that Sorenson could be a weapon too.

"Although I hate to say this Admiral," she told him, hating herself, "we need him alive. I may be able to use his genetic material to help fashion a vaccine or a cure if I can ever get to that stage. But," she continued, "I'm sure you can understand that I can't work with him?"

The Admiral turned to look at her directly and it was then she appreciated how dangerous Roskov truly was. His veneer of civility had fallen away for a moment and she could see anger and viciousness in his expression, "Yes Doctor, I can understand that.

"We will have Mr Sorenson restrained then. And we will move the equipment into a lab next door that you can use." He paused, before asking chillingly, "will it endanger your work if he is not wholly well?"

She swallowed. She was a doctor. She knew how she should answer that question. But he was a monster, and he had no remorse. She made a decision. "No Admiral, it will not." She hoped she could live with that. She'd have to now.

He nodded, "I thank you for bringing this to my attention Doctor. I will have Lieutenant Voronov escort you back to your cabin. Your lab should be set up within the next three hours."

"Thank you, Admiral," she told him, thinking _I have plenty to do up until then_.


	3. Vyerni: Chapter 2

_I do not own The Last Ship._

 **Part 1: Chapter 2**

 **9 October 2014**

Rachel Scott had a problem. Actually, she had lots of problems. She was a lone virologist without access to the outside world, kidnapped and working for a Russian despot, on a loan battlecruiser crewed by Russian sailors in the middle of nowhere, tasked with finding a vaccine for a virus which was rapidly killing the world.

And to add insult to injury she had come to an important conclusion. Even if she was able to find a vaccine or a cure, it would need to be in aerosol form or contagious, because she would not be able to access the manufacturing capacity to get it to everyone who needed it. Because Admiral Konstantin Nikolajewich Ruskov, who had kidnapped her away from the US Navy with whom she had previously been working, was not interested in making a cure widely available. He wanted to use it as a strategic weapon to allow him to rule the world. And she couldn't allow that. It stood against everything she believed in.

Actually, she thought that it might be easier to make the cure contagious than to actually find a cure. The reason for that was because a method of doing so had dropped into her lap when she had met Niels Sorenson for the first time. Niels Sorenson had weaponised the red flu by adding his DNA to it, but an analysis of his genetic material had pointed her in a number of directions that she would not normally consider.

Not that he had surrendered his genetic material voluntarily, and she did feel a bit conflicted about that. But not massively so, because Sorenson had killed over four billion people and not exhibited a trace of remorse. She had shopped Sorenson to her captors and exposed his cover story as a lie. To say that Ruskov had been upset had been an understatement. Ruskov had spent over a day torturing Sorenson. Luckily, she had not been there for that, but she had had to gather the genetic material for analysis from Sorenson and he had been unconscious, bleeding and tied to a bed with two fierce looking seamen with machine guns in NBC suits standing guard.

She suspected that if she lived through this horrible experience then she would not be proud of what she did with Sorenson but, given the situation she was in, she only gave it a five per cent chance that she would live anyway. She had asked Ruskov to find out from Sorenson what the stability sequence was that he had used to tie his DNA to the virus. That information had come quite quickly because, as expected, Sorenson was a complete physical coward.

Her computer beeped and the analysis was over. And there was the answer. The virus was super-concentrated in Sorenson's lungs. She supposed that stood to reason. She would need to use some sort of DNA scissors to get it out of there but if she could find the cure then she could do it. She just needed to make sure that Ruskov kept Sorenson alive long enough so that she could use the scissors. And find a source of the scissors. Freshwater mussels should do it. There were lakes up and down the east coast of the US and maybe she could use that as an excuse to head back towards US territory. If she was very lucky maybe Nathan James would sight them. If they were even looking. She prayed they were looking.

OK, one thing down. Now she just needed to find a vaccine. No pressure then! 

**11 October 2014**

Rachel had now been on the Vyerni for one week. She was no closer to finding the vaccine than she had been and the natives were getting restless. She was in her lab, looking through her microscope when the Admiral walked in. She wasn't surprised; he normally came by for a progress report about 3pm in the afternoon.

"Dr Scott," he purred at her, "do you have a progress report for me?"

"Admiral," she replied masking a yawn. She had, after all, been working 18-20 hour days for the past four months. "No progress, I'm afraid."

"Doctor Scott, I am starting to become disappointed in your lack of progress."

There it was. It wasn't that she hadn't been expecting it. But she had to be careful. She stood and walked round to face him through the plastic wall of the lab. "Admiral, have you ever heard of Max Theiler?" she asked, cocking her eyebrow at him.

He shook his head, "No, I have not Dr Scott. Why is he relevant to me?"

"Well you see Admiral," she replied, "Max Theiler was the man who developed the vaccine against yellow fever in 1937. He and his co-workers attempted the use of 99 different sub-strains of the virus in their work, but none of them worked. It wasn't until the hundredth attempt that they found a vaccine that worked. So you see Admiral… **I don't have the answers today. I may not have them tomorrow. But I can promise you that I won't stop working until I do**."

"Ah, I see Doctor Scott. I understand. I will try and give you the time you need, but please be aware Doctor Scott, that my patience is not endless." That was a stark warning if ever there was one.

"Thank you Admiral…" she replied, wondering whether to bring up the other thing.

"Do you have anything else for me, Doctor?" he asked, perhaps sensing her hesitation.

"Yes Admiral," she answered, "If you don't mind, we only have three monkeys and I will need many more for the virus testing."

"Ah," he paused, "and where should I go to look for monkeys Doctor Scott?"

"For the breeds we need Admiral, and in coastal locations, probably Latin America. I can do some research if you would like."

The Admiral agreed he would like that. "Perhaps you can update me this evening Doctor?"

"Of course, Admiral," she replied. Taking a surreptitious deep breath as he turned and left. That was close, she thought. It had only been a week and he was already getting antsy. She needed to lay out what she was doing better for him and space out the timelines so that he knew what to expect. Otherwise, she worried that he would lose patience and do something that they would both regret.

She thought about monkeys and Latin America. If she could just remember whether she had put Puerto Rico or Nicaragua in her notes aboard Nathan James. It was a long shot, but she assumed Captain Chandler had gone through her notes. Perhaps he might try to find Vyerni there. If Nathan James was even trying to find her, that is. She might be happily home brewing vaccine by now.

But knowing Quincy as she did, and knowing that the Russians had Kelly, she wasn't expecting great things. She didn't know if Quincy had reached out again to the Russians, or even if he had made it. She wasn't bothered enough to know. She would warn the Americans if she ever saw them again but at the moment seeing them again was such a pipe-dream it wasn't even worth thinking about.

She couldn't believe that Quincy had shopped them in. Admittedly they had his wife and daughter, but would she really do the same thing if they had Michael?

She didn't really want to think about Michael. Michael Hunter, the nephew of her mentor Julius Hunter. She didn't want to think about Julius either. She'd had no contact from either of them. It wasn't so strange not to have contact with Michel. While their relationship had been hot and heavy at the beginning, now they were like ships passing in the night. Neither was willing to put their career on hold for the other. Brad had described them as good friends with benefits. While she still cared deeply for Michael, and probably always would, their relationship had been on the outs for a while.

But even if she still was in love with Michael she couldn't see herself endangering their work for him. Not with someone like Ruskov. Because Ruskov didn't care about saving lives, he cared about dominance. She would give up Michael's life and her life and anybody's life that she held dear to get a cure out there. Because if she didn't there would be no world, whatever Ruskov thought. Because even if he saved the people he wanted to there likely wouldn't be enough people left in the gene pool to prolong the human race. The big picture was not something that Ruskov and people like him ever thought about. 

**18 October 2014**

They were half-way through their voyage to Puerto Rico and she had finally started to isolate the gene sequences in the virus. It was tough work for one person on their own. She missed Quincy and she really missed Brad. But she was pleased that Brad at least was not here. Quincy deserved everything he got in her opinion. Given Ruskov's revelations about Quincy, she did have to wonder if Brad's accident was actually an accident but she guessed she would never know. All she knew was that the world had lost one of its best virologists and she had lost one of her best friends. She could have done with his emotional support now and she could certainly have done with his intellect.

She had finally managed to get Kelly Tophet on her own and found out that her assumptions were correct. Ruskov was sleeping with her and it wasn't really voluntarily. It wasn't quite rape but he was blackmailing Kelly with Ava's safety. Kelly had told her that she and Ava were kidnapped from their house in Atlanta about three months ago and smuggled out of the country. They had been delivered to the Vyerni at sea by a freighter. So whoever had planned this had done quite a lot of background work. She had wondered when the contact was made with Quincy, and how, but again she guessed she'd never know. But she wondered if Quincy had been working with the Russians for longer that this operation. That would certainly explain how they knew so much about his home life.

Kelly had warned her that she must not anger Ruskov. He could become very violent. She filed that away. She was sitting very heavily on her tendency to speak first and give apologies later, trying not to speak out of turn and to be civil. In many ways it reminded her of her last months with her father after her mother had died and before she'd left for boarding school in the UK. Her father was not averse to hitting her to make a point if he thought she was being disrespectful or spoke out of turn. She had finally learnt to control her temper then and she was holding onto to that control with all she was worth now. It was interesting to note that she hated Ruskov almost as much as her father! 

**24 October 2014**

Rachel was in her lab when what she assumed was the General Quarters alarm went off. Monkey gathering parties had been landed yesterday and had proceeded inland to start tracking down the correct monkeys. She had asked to go with the monkey-gatherers but been told that she was too important and couldn't be risked. She hoped that they brought back the right monkeys or this would be a complete waste of time.

She didn't know what she should do so she just got on with her work. The ship accelerated and turned to the left (port side, she supposed) making her stagger. She decided it would be a good idea to secure her equipment in case there were any more of these manoeuvres, but she was too late as the ship veered to the right and some of her empty vials fell to the floor.

"What's going on?" she shouted to Lieutenant Voronov, her keeper.

"Don't know!" he replied, reaching for the phone on the bulkhead, "but I'll try to find out."

Voronov was an interesting guy. He wasn't at all like Ruskov. Much younger, obviously. Ruskov had told her that it had been his team that had laid the trap for the Navy SEALs, but he was the sole survivor. He was educated and had told her he had a degree in biochemistry from Moscow State university and had done a year in the UK as part of his course. But he had never used his degree, choosing to join the Navy as his father had. Instead of going for a sailing branch, he had joined Russia's elite naval infantry, the equivalent of the US and Royal Marines. He had been posted to Atlantic Fleet Command when the red flu had broken out. Apparently his father had served with Ruskov and recommended his son to the old man. Rachel got mixed messages from Voronov and wasn't sure whether he was happy with his service. He had spoken about his concerns for his wife and son. Rachel had filed the information away. There was nothing she could do with it now, but it might be useful in the future.

"Another warship sighted," Voronov called.

"What?" she yelled, not believing it, "I thought they were all dead?" she wasn't sure whether to hope it was Nathan James or not. She wasn't sure what good the destroyer could do against this mammoth nuclear-powered battlecruiser and she hoped that Captain Chandler didn't push it anyway. There was a whoosh from the front of the ship.

"What was that?" she asked.

"We launched missiles," Voronov called, "probably surface to surface. You should get out of that lab," he advised, "just in case they fire back. You don't want to fall over and tear your suit."

No, she definitely didn't. It was a good piece of advice and she took it. A good thing she did because five minutes later there was a string of evasive manoeuvres and then a huge crashing explosive impact towards the back of the ship. They both fell over with the force of the explosion.

"I think it must be your friends," observed Voronov quietly, "with the anti-air defence on this ship it would have to be advanced missiles to get through our defences."

"What will happen now?" she asked. The whoosh of missiles launching was their answer.

"It's going to be touch and go," he replied, "Even though this is a bigger ship than your friends', it was mothballed until the Admiral took it out and its armament and radar are obsolete compared to the latest American technology. But the Admiral's a smart man. He practically wrote the book on combat tactics. We need to sit tight. The reason we're staying in this area is that we still have to recover the boats they sent out for the monkeys."

There was nothing she could do either way and no point in worrying about it. She hoped Nathan James could capture them, but she didn't hold out much hope. As Voronov said, this was still a battlecruiser. She hoped Nathan James didn't take damage or casualties.

* * *

"So, Doctor," it was evening and this was the first time since the action had evidently ended an hour ago that the Admiral had come to see her. He looked on edge and she didn't take that to be a good sign.

She had wondered if she should offer to help with the wounded but decided since she had been kidnapped, she wouldn't go out of her way to help. She was a medical doctor and could help the wounded and would, if asked, but she wouldn't volunteer. "How do you think Commander Chandler knew to look for us here?"

"Commander Chandler, Admiral?" she replied, "from Nathan James?" He strode over towards her.

"Don't play the fool with me Doctor!" he thundered, "How did you let the commander know our position?"

"I have no idea what our position is Admiral," she retorted, letting a bit of her anger out, "so how on Earth was I supposed to tell it to the Commander?"

He slapped her, hard, across the face, "Tell me!" She staggered and fell to the floor.

"I don't know!" she screamed, blood dripping from her cut lip, "I haven't had any contact with Commander Chandler since the day before you kidnapped me."

"Get up Doctor," he grated, dragging her to her feet, "now tell me!" he shouted, hitting her again. This time she went down like a sack of potatoes, stunned. He shouted at Voronov in angry Russian and Voronov replied in the same language.

He looked down at her, "Lieutenant Voronov seems to think you weren't expecting the attack and that you're not that good an actress, Doctor. I hope for your sake that is the case, because if I find that you have been working with Commander Chandler, you will wish you died on that ice."

Then he turned and walked out.

They found out that evening that Nathan James had tracked the satellite phone that they had been using to speak to Quincy. The radio operator hadn't received any instructions not to and had therefore tried to make contact with Quincy once a day. Voronov relayed to her how Ruskov had lost his temper and shot the man with his own pistol. 

* * *

A/N 1: Bold text is dialogue from The Last Ship.

A/N 2: This fic is shortly going to take a darker turn and will be reclassified as an "M" rating so if you want to keep following it you'll need to search under All Ratings.


	4. Vyerni: Chapter 3

_I do not own The Last Ship_

 **Part 1: Chapter 3**

 **25 October 2014**

Artur Dmitrievich Voronov was worried. It had been a difficult October for him, starting with the kidnap of the British scientist, Dr Rachel Scott, from the Americans and then he had been appointed her minder on the Vyerni in addition to his duties as Security Officer. He remembered on that fateful day he had had doubts as to whether they should actually kidnap the British scientists, or if it would be better to simply leave them to what they were doing. Now he had more doubts.

Because he had gotten to know Dr Rachel Scott over the past weeks of her incarceration on the Vyerni. Despite being held here against her will, despite being well outside her comfort zone, despite having to work for a despot, despite the threat of violence and worse, Rachel Scott had just got on with her work. The world needed a cure and she would work for that cure. And with Rachel Scott that meant working 18-20 hour days, despite the fact that she was still recovering from being shot and the injuries she'd suffered due to his team's actions.

It was difficult not to admire Dr Scott. Her drive and her intellect were impressive. And she was a good-looking woman as well. Perhaps a bit too thin, but some of that was probably down to the fact that she often forgot to eat. He had taken to bringing her lunch and dinner, and he forced her out of the lab at least twice a day. He used her injured thigh as an excuse and told her she needed to exercise it. He had passed on her request to be able to use the gym but the Admiral had turned it down. As a result, it was more important than ever that she got some exercise, and he thought that she appreciated the fresh air and the opportunity to see different parts of the ship. And he wouldn't be surprised if she was cataloguing escape routes; he would if he was in her situation.

It didn't matter if she did. She wouldn't get through him if she tried to escape anyway. He didn't think she would try though, until she had a usable cure. She couldn't afford to lose time escaping and trying to set up a lab elsewhere. Because they both knew time was of the essence. The world was dying from the Red Flu and if they didn't get a cure soon, there wouldn't be a world.

Unbidden, images of his wife Lydia and son Yuri filled his mind, as they did several times a day. He wondered if they were alive? He had told them to go to his father's Dacha in the hills above Murmansk, Russia's primary Atlantic naval base, where they had lived for the past two years. Retiring as a senior captain, his father had bought a hunting cabin in the middle of nowhere. It was close to fresh water and there was good hunting in that area. Lydia was good with a gun and, if they had managed to get there, there was a good chance that they could survive the breakdown of infrastructure that had impacted their country.

He wondered if Yuri would be proud of him? On the whole, he thought not. Yesterday when the Admiral had struck Dr Scott he had had to stand impassively at the back of the room. The Admiral had been convinced she had led the Americans to them when he had known that she couldn't have. She had passionately denied it and he had told the Admiral that she had been as surprised as he when the American ship had come into sight. The Admiral had struck her twice before leaving to find someone else to take his anger out on, and it had only been later in the day when they had found out he had shot a radio operator.

As he had carried the nearly insensate doctor to the cot in her lab and had gently cleaned her wounds, he had wondered again if he had done the right thing in bringing her here. Just as he was wondering now. He knew now he was serving a vicious tyrant and he worried that that could only go one way. He didn't like the situation he was in. The situation they were both in. If he helped her, it would be very unlikely that he would ever see his family again. If he didn't, and the Admiral killed or severely injured her in a fit of pique, nobody would see their family again.

Thinking about it, there was no point in worrying until she had a cure. But when she did have a cure then he would have an important decision to make…

 **26 October 2014**

Rachel stared at the computer screen as her latest analysis finished. She was close, very close. They had managed to bring 20 monkeys back from Puerto Rico which would give her 23 to work with. She hoped that would be enough. She really hoped this wouldn't be like Max Theiler. She wasn't sure that the Admiral would be able to keep the lid on his temper long enough for them to get to 99 tests and she was genuinely afraid that he might hurt her.

She had been petrified when he'd lost his rag with her the day of the Nathan James encounter. While a part of her was jubilant that Nathan James was looking for her, the Admiral had been truly terrifying, and she had the bruises to prove it. While the first open-handed slap hadn't been that bad, he had put a lot of force into the second stroke and she had been stunned. She wasn't sure that he hadn't broken her cheekbone.

But while the Admirals' behaviour had been terrifying, Lieutenant Voronov's behaviour had been intriguing. In the Admiral's presence he was as he always had been. Giving the impression of sturdiness, professionalism and military dispassion. But when the Admiral hadn't been there, he had been different in the past few days.

After her beating, when she was lying stunned on the floor, he had carried her to her cot and treated her cuts and bruises. And he had been very gentle. Just the other morning he had initiated a conversation with her about the weather. When she had questioned that peculiarly British conversation topic, he had confessed that he had spent a year in London as part of his degree and was always impressed by how Britons could manage long conversations with complete strangers about the weather!

This morning had been back to dispassion in the admiral's wardroom at breakfast but as soon as they were out for exercise he had opened up again. He was clearly wary of being seen talking to her, but she felt that perhaps he was warming to her. Was this something she could exploit? She needed to be careful. If he was having second thoughts about the Admiral he could be a useful ally but similarly he could still be a plant. It wouldn't hurt though to keep talking to him and see what information she could glean.

 **27 October 2014**

"You asked to see me, Doctor Scott?" Ruskov had been conspicuous by his absence for the past two days. _Perhaps he's embarrassed he lost his temper with me. Bollocks to that_ , she thought, smiling internally, _he's incapable of feeling embarrassed_.

"Yes Admiral," she replied, "I need a way to dispose of the dead monkeys," she gestured to the two plastic cages which held the unlucky creatures. She wasn't a big fan of testing at this level on primates but it was a necessity in this situation where speed was so much of the essence.

"Your vaccine didn't work, Doctor?" he asked, somewhat dangerously.

 _Blimey, hadn't he bothered to listen to her Theiler example?_ "No Admiral. The first two tests have failed. But I'll keep trying until I find the right structure," she paused, "or we run out of monkeys."

"Let's hope it's the former, Doctor," he made eye contact again and his eyes were hard as ice. But this time she was sure in her knowledge, "And you'll have no disagreements from me Admiral but, as in the example I gave you before, please be aware that we may need some more monkeys at some point, even though I hope we don't," she added quickly at the end.

He stared at her for some time, clearly trying to assess her honesty.

"OK Doctor, I will set something up. You may ask Lieutenant Voronov to call my Flag Lieutenant when you are ready."

"Thank you, Admiral," he left, and the atmosphere in the room warmed up considerably. Lieutenant Voronov relaxed into a more easy stance and Rachel was able to let out the breath she hadn't even realised she'd been holding.

"Would you like a cup of tea, Doctor?" asked the Lieutenant. They had talked about tea in their daily walk this morning and Rachel had confessed how much she missed her green camomile tea. While the Earl Grey that was served in the Admirals' wardroom was better than the Russian tea, it didn't bear much of a resemblance to real tea and was quite similar to that Lipton crap they'd had on Nathan James. Lieutenant Voronov had intimated that he might have access to a source of something with a closer approximation to real tea.

"If you don't mind, Lieutenant," she replied. Maybe this was a step forward?

 **31 October 2014**

"Lieutenant, I need to see the Admiral." Never was a truer word said. Because she thought she might actually have something here. One of the monkeys she had injected the day before yesterday had been asymptomatic yesterday. The others in that batch had all come down with the virus. She didn't know if it was a fluke, so she'd injected another monkey with the same strain yesterday morning. Neither monkey had yet shown any symptoms.

Since the virus normally killed within 2-3 days of exposure in smaller primates and children this was quite an important discovery. The next stage was human trials. But she wasn't quite ready for that yet. She needed to find some way to meld her vaccine or cure onto Niels' genetic material to make the virus contagious and that was some way off.

But the Admiral had been becoming a bit of a menace again over the past few days. She needed something to fob him off with, some good news. And she thought this was it. But she wasn't ready for human trials yet and she had to find some way to deflect him.

Voronov was looking at her quizzically, "Are you sure, Doctor?"

"Yes," she told him. "You see this monkey here?" she asked, pointing to the one in question, a rather cute-looking tan and black Capuchin, "he isn't sick. It's two days and he isn't sick!"

He was unable to contain his excitement, "You mean you may have a cure?"

"No, not a cure Lieutenant," she told him, trying to contain her exasperation. "We might have a vaccine. But it's very early days and there are significant differences between monkey and human bodies. I need to do a lot more tests before we can be certain that it will work on humans. Then I need to test it on humans, and only then will we know if we have a vaccine. And then I have to adapt the vaccine to see if we can make a cure. So, as you can see, we are a long way from success but it's a step in the right direction."

Still, she could see was excited. And, if truth be told, she was excited as well. "OK Doctor," he told her, "let's go and see the Admiral."

 **1 November 2014**

 _Well_ , thought Artur Voronov, _for something that started so well yesterday, today's been a bit of a clusterfuck!_

He had been unable to contain his excitement yesterday when Doctor Scott had requested to see the Admiral, saying that she had made a breakthrough. He had wondered for the first time if he might live to see his son again. The Admiral had also been excited when the Doctor had told him her news. It was late in the evening and the Doctor had basically repeated what she'd said to him, telling the Admiral that it was still early days but that it was a move in the right direction.

The Admiral had proposed a brandy to celebrate but the Doctor had politely refused, saying that she needed to get back to her lab and then to bed.

And when he had picked her up again this morning after eight hours' sleep, she had looked human for the first time in days. The bruise on her cheek was fading, though the dark marks under her eyes were still there, but less-pronounced than they had been yesterday. Her eyes were bright and as they walked the port side of the deck she had chattered away about the weather and how grateful she was to him for procuring her some green tea.

When they walked into the lab however, all that had come crashing to the ground. The Admiral had been waiting for them.

"Doctor Scott," he had said, eyes hard, "I don't understand why you are not proceeding direct to human trials for the vaccine?"

The Doctor had walked into the lab and faced the Admiral, leaving Artur to take his guard position next to the bulkhead. The Doctor had looked momentarily stunned, but had recovered herself quickly, "Ah, simply because it's still very early days Admiral," she'd replied, "as I said last night there are differences between monkey and human physiology and we need to do additional checks to make sure that there are no issues."

"And how long will these additional tests take?" he asked.

"Erm, I'm really not sure Admiral," had replied the Doctor, "I don't know until I do them. It could take a few days, it could take a week."

Even to him that sounded like she may have been prevaricating. The Admiral had closed the distance between them until he was right in her face, "I do not like your answer Doctor. It sounds like you are wasting time."

She had stood her ground, which must have taken lots of guts, "I'm sorry Admiral, but I am very aware that every day we don't have a vaccine millions of people are dying. I would never intentionally waste time."

He thought it was a good answer, but the Admiral clearly already knew what he wanted. "When we spoke about this before, you told me that when you concluded animal tests we could go straight onto human testing. What has changed?"

She had looked down, clearly upset. "I'm just trying to make sure Admiral. There are lots of things that could go wrong and I've no-one to check my calculations."

He had reached out and raised her chin with his finger. To Artur it looked rather creepy. "Come now Doctor," he had grated, "I have more confidence in you than that. And you should too. We need to show results. The crew is getting restless. We will proceed straight to human testing. You will tell me what you want in terms of test subjects and we will get them for you."

"Admiral," she had tried tearfully, "Please don't do this. These people could die. I'm not ready!"

"We will all die eventually Doctor Scott. If they do, they will have sacrificed their lives for the greater good. But I'm sure you will do everything in your power to make sure they don't. We will commence the trial on 2nd November – tomorrow."

With that he had turned and left. Artur had tried to look on dispassionately as the strongest person he knew collapsed to the floor and cried.

* * *

 _A/N Next chapter will see this fic upgraded to an "M" rating. If you want to keep following you'll need to search under "All ratings" and not the default search._


	5. Vyerni: Chapter 4

_A/N This chapter includes adult content, particularly in the first section. I do not own The Last Ship._

 **Part 1: Chapter 4**

 **5 November 2014**

Rachel Scott groaned. She hurt all over. _How could it have gone so totally wrong?_

She had made the important breakthrough. The monkey had lived. She had had a prototype vaccine. She had wanted to test it more, but Ruskov had forced the issue. He had told her he needed progress to assuage the crew. They were getting restless for progress and she supposed she could understand that. This was, after all, not a governmental organisation like Nathan James. Ruskov had effectively set himself up as a warlord and they hoped to profit from the future. If there was no cure then they would be resigned to floating around out here until they ran out of food or contracted the virus.

He had forced her to carry out human testing. And it had failed. The virus had shrugged off the vaccine. The vaccine had slowed the onset of the virus, for sure. But then the virus had come on full force and all of the human subjects had died within three days. She and the ship's doctor, who had been monitoring the test with her in her lab, had been forced to give the subjects morphine to put them out of their misery.

After the test she had run to the adjacent store room to find somewhere to be alone so that she could cry for the people who had died under her watch. She hadn't understood why they had died and that made their deaths hurt even more. She hadn't known the men who had died in her lab. They were just numbers to her. But she had held their hands, tried to give any gram of comfort as they had suffered in the most grotesque way in front of her eyes.

She needed space. She needed to understand what had happened. Why she had failed? Why they were dead?

Then he had come. The Admiral had been in a towering rage, screaming about her failure and how he would not tolerate failure. She had tried to protest, but he had slapped her hard across the face, stunning her. As she lay on the floor two of his men had entered and dragged her to her feet. Ruskov had got in her face, "I've tried to be open with you Dr Scott. I've tried to encourage you. I've tried to trust you. AND YOU'VE THROWN IT BACK IN MY FACE! You've cost me six men. Do you know what the cost of failure is Doctor Scott?"

She had tried to answer but couldn't get her stunned brain to work.

He had sneered at her. "Perhaps it is time you found out. I'm sure Vladimir will be happy to educate you." He had shouted to his men in Russian.

They had dragged her out of the lab, through the corridors and into a room. She didn't remember much of her trip until they got to their destination. A large room. A chain hanging from the ceiling. They had handcuffed her hands and then attached the handcuffs to the chain. One of them pulled the chain up until her hands were above her head and her feet were just touching the ground.

"No!" she had begged, "there's been a mistake. I'm trying as hard as I can!"

Into the room had stepped a bear of a man. Almost as tall as he was thick. Long black, greasy hair, greying beard and moustache. And in his hand a length of black rubber hose. Next to him had been the unpleasant lieutenant who had undressed her with his eyes at dinner with Ruskov. This time the man had been licking his lips in anticipation. It sickened her. She shut up, resolving to try to hold out as much as possible. Not to give the sick bastard anything.

The Bear had whipped her with the rubber hose. She was surprised at first that the pain hadn't been as bad as she thought. But she had been wrong. When the strokes started to go on areas he had already hit it had been agonising. It had gone on and on, as he progressed the hose up and down her body and her legs, walking round her to make sure that he got every angle. She had lost count at 40 strokes, lost the ability to keep from screaming soon after that and unfortunately it was some time after that before she lost consciousness.

She had woken up this morning on the floor in her stateroom, aching all over and with her throat hoarse from the screaming. It had taken 10 minutes to get her abused body into an upright position. The only positive thing was that her clothing appeared unmoved so it seemed she had not been sexually molested after she'd passed out, but her T-shirt and trousers (both borrowed from Kelly Tophet) were filthy and blood-stained, a complete right-off.

Carefully, she peeled the T-shirt off. Her torso was covered with long weals. Not too many of them had bled but they were all very badly bruised and the bruises crossed in many places. It took her many minutes to undo her bra, peel her trousers and underwear off, get up and stagger to the shower.

She had been surprised to have a shower in her stateroom when she first arrived, but she supposed it had been a necessity given that there appeared to be no women on this ship. She didn't reckon she would have been very safe having to use a communal shower. She was really grateful for the privacy now.

She checked the time and found that it was after 11.00. That was certainly later than she would normally expect to be up and about. Most mornings Lieutenant Voronov came for her to take her for breakfast about 07.00.

It was painful to shower, particularly to wash out the encrusted blood on some of the wounds and she gave up on some areas. She cried with pain and hurt and humiliation and loss and despair.

Getting out of the shower, she wrapped a towel around herself. What was she going to wear? She was surprised to find a folded set of surgical scrubs on top of her bed with a note. "Thought these would be more comfortable. V." She silently thanked him as she painfully pulled her knickers on and then pulled up the trousers of the scrubs, tying the waistband, and then pulling on the top. The material was soft but not tight, which was a Godsend given her abused body.

She was in so much pain she didn't think she could work today. She decided to lie down. Next to the scrubs on her bed was an envelope. It contained four pills. Another note said "Paracetamol. All I could get." She was genuinely touched by the gesture and popped one straightaway. She needed it. She would have taken two but she didn't know how long the pain would last. Then she lay down on the bed. It was going to be a long, painful day.

* * *

Artur had reached a decision. Actually, the decision had really been made for him when the Admiral had dragged the grieving Doctor Scott out of the corner of the storage bay where she had been crying and sent her off to be whipped by Vladimir Illyich Moranov, his favourite enforcer.

It had been clear to Artur that the Doctor was really heartbroken when her vaccine trial failed. She hadn't wanted to rush into it in the first place. It was the Admiral's fault, but like all tyrants the Admiral wasn't able to admit that. Despite not being able to communicate with the subjects, the Doctor had been really warm and empathic with them. Holding their hands as they succumbed to the virus and faded away.

And seeing the effects of the virus first hand had been literally gut-wrenching. He had stood in his usual place beside the bulkhead next to the lab, some way removed from the subjects in their plastic prison. He didn't know how she was able to do it. When the patients started to haemorrhage, from their wounds and from their orifices, he had fought (and lost) to control the urge to vomit, but she had breezed right through, holding their hands, talking to them, soothing them. And unlike the Admiral, who hadn't stayed to watch the men he'd selected die, she had stayed with them all the time, even given them the morphine injections herself to end it.

She had done nothing that merited the Admiral's decision to take his annoyance out on her and all his decision to torture her had proven was that Ruskov wasn't the man Artur's father had thought him to be. Ruskov had always been a bit of a hero in Artur's eyes when he was growing up. But not any more. What Ruskov was doing was wrong.

He knew that Doctor Scott was the best hope for the world to survive. He hadn't heard of any other cures out there and she was so close after only a month of work. But how could he help her? The only way that he could see was to get her off this ship, but if they simply ran, then Ruskov would catch up and probably kill them.

 _The Americans_. They were the only hope he could see for Doctor Scott to finish her work. There was no way she could get in touch with the Americans. He would have to do it.

And he would have to do it secretly. The Doctor didn't know, but she was monitored nearly everywhere by CCTV and listening devices. He only talked to her in places where there were blind spots. He couldn't take the risk of Ruskov finding out if he talked to her. Although he was the security officer, other people had access to the security monitoring room, particularly when he was with the Doctor. Anything he did needed to be done on his own. And he needed to protect himself when he did it. Which meant setting someone else up as the fall guy.

There was an obvious fall guy in Lieutenant Senior Grade Yuri Aleksov. He had seen the little creep undressing Doctor Scott at dinner that first night and he had insisted on accompanying Vladimir to punish her. The sick little bastard had enjoyed it as well if the pictures on his cellphone were anything to go by. He was a signals officer too, so that would work perfectly. Far be it from him to actually deign to go into the Comms office. Not when he could be brown-nosing the Admiral or the Captain. No, the obsequious little shit was perfect cannon fodder.

He would set up a regular signal on a frequency he was sure the Americans would monitor. And then it would just be about them coming into range. How to make it attractive to them? Perhaps "RS" in morse code? Dot Dash Dot, Dot Dot Dot. That was quick and easily repeatable. He was sure he could steel Aleksov's phone to record it. Then if the signal was ever discovered it would be easy to "trace" it back to him. Yes, he would set it up in the next few days and then hopefully the Americans would be able to track them down. Once the Americans were closer to the ship it would be easier to make contact with them, possibly by laser or some other method. Something to consider.

 **7 November 2014**

"Ah Doctor," she could have gone the rest of her life without hearing his voice. It was her second day back at work, although yesterday afternoon had been pretty much a write off. It had been too painful for her to sit in any position for any length of time and she had used all the drugs the day before. She had worked out why the vaccine worked on the monkey and not the humans though. Now she just had to find a way to reverse that. _That bloody Niels_ , she thought, _if it wasn't for him my vaccine would have worked_. Those six people wouldn't have died and I wouldn't have been beaten.

"I am glad to see you back at work," he continued when she didn't say anything. She kept her head down, hoping that he might go away.

No such hope, "I wonder if you have reflected on your failure Doctor and worked out where you went wrong?" he asked, almost solicitously.

Again, she kept her head down. She did not want face him, "The vaccine would have worked on the original strain," she told him, "but I used a decoy and once it attached to the decoy the virus exposed its human gene, Niels' gene, which caused their bodies' immune systems to attack every cell in their bodies. I need to find a way to disguise that gene. If the virus cannot see it, then it won't react."

"Ah, so it is Mr Sorenson's fault. Perhaps I should pay him a little visit," he observed, as she winced. "So how long will it take you to adapt your work Doctor?"

She didn't have an answer, so she told him, "I don't know Captain, maybe 2-3 days?"

"Not soon enough Doctor!" he told her, closing the distance between them. She couldn't help herself, she flinched. "I think you need your mind concentrated a bit Doctor-"

"No! Please not that!" she pleaded, looking at him in desperation, "it took me two days to recover, I can't work un-"

"Don't worry, Doctor," he reassured her in a totally un-reassuring way, "I didn't mean that. Although it is still on the table if you fail again."He stared at her menacingly, "No, I meant that perhaps you are failing because you have no skin in the game so to speak."

What did he mean? His face looked sinister and very cruel in the overhead lights, "What?"

"We will have another trial tomorrow Doctor," he told her looking directly at her, "And this time Kelly and Ava will be part of the trial, in addition to my men. We will see how you perform when you have some of your own skin in the game…"

He looked at her, as if daring her to reply. She knew he was looking for an excuse, but she couldn't not object to this.

"No, Admiral you don't have to do this. Ava is just a child and the only reason they're here is because of Quincy. It's not right." She braced herself, not knowing if he would lash out or scream at her.

Unexpectedly he didn't scream at her but answered in measured tones, "I'm afraid my mind is already made up Doctor Scott. Hopefully your mind is concentrated now too. You have until tomorrow morning to improve your vaccine."

She couldn't let this lie, "No Admiral you can't do this! This is murder."

Now he did get in her face, "I think you forget who you are speaking to Dr Scott! I am the commander of this vessel and I am your superior. I am not your contemporary, to be challenged as you will. You will obey _my_ orders or you will pay the price!" he raised his hand and she flinched back rapidly.

He sneered, "Good, it seems we understand one another Doctor. I will see you tomorrow for the trials. I hope you get it right this time." And with that he turned away and stormed out, leaving Rachel stunned and tearful. What was she going to do now?

* * *

 _A/N1 I think this was one of the most difficult chapters to write so apologies to any it freaked out. There are only two more chapters after this on the Vyerni and then we go over to the Nathan James to find out what's been happening with them._

 _A/N2 I know that in canon Rachel came up with the cure during the first trial but I do believe that she was only able to do that because she felt so strongly about the people in the trial. They were people she knew/respected and some had become friends. If you took that away I wondered if she would have been able to make the leap of faith/logic to find the cure._


	6. Vyerni: Chapter 5

_Again, this chapter contains adult themes, including character death. I do not own The Last Ship._

 **Part 1: Chapter 5**

 **11 November 2014**

Rachel Scott was emotionally wiped out. As she sat on the floor in the corner of the store room next to her lab on the battlecruiser Vyerni, she honestly wondered how she could keep going.

The second vaccine trial that Admiral Ruskov had ordered was completed and all the subjects were dead. Ava Tophet had been the first to die, but not the only one. And Rachel had been directly responsible for the death of four of the subjects herself.

But she had done what she needed to. More testing was needed, but she believed she had developed a vaccine for the red flu. And more important than that she believed she had developed a cure. But what should have been a moment for joyous celebration was nothing of the sort. Because no-one else knew. She couldn't tell anyone that she had a potential working cure because her captor Admiral Ruskov would then attempt to weaponise it.

No, she had to proceed with her plan to aerosolise the cure and make it transmittable between humans and then she had to find a way to get it off the ship. Because Ruskov had made it very clear both from his direct interactions with her, and his indirect ones, that he didn't want her to develop a cure to help the world so that they could go back to _status quo ante_. No, he wanted a cure that he could sell to the highest bidder and use to enslave people.

And that wasn't why she was a virologist and it wasn't why she was a doctor. She had to fight that outcome with every fibre of her being. And if that meant killing then, with regret, she needed to kill. And if it meant dying then she was prepared for that as well. And she knew that with Ruskov it wouldn't be a quick death. But some things were worth it.

Ruskov had forced the second trial before she was ready with a second iteration of the vaccine she had invented. And to put more pressure on her (as if she wasn't under enough already with having six people die in her original trial, being beaten to a pulp by Ruskov's thugs, and having the fate of the world hanging on her) he had decided to include Quincy's wife and daughter into the mix.

She had tried to object when he first told her, but he had shouted her down. She had tried again the next morning after she had worked through the night to develop a new vaccine, but he wasn't having any of it and he had struck her again in front of Kelly and Ava and the other six participants. It hadn't been a hard slap but, given her other bruising it had been bloody painful, and it had served as notice of what he was prepared to do if she refused.

As she lay stunned on the floor, Kelly Tophet had stated in a brittle voice that she and Ava had volunteered for the trial. And little Ava, standing next to her mother with tears rolling down her face, had agreed.

She had had no choice but to get on with it. Sure, she could have stood up to Ruskov but all she would have brought on herself would have been more pain and eventually he would have forced her to do it, and all it would have done was delayed development of any vaccine or cure she might manage further. And, as they all knew, if they delayed much longer there probably wouldn't be a human race to save.

The only way that she was able to rationalise it in her head was to think of Kelly and Ava as casualties of war. She hated herself for it and, most of all, she hated her cowardice. But she would face a reckoning at a later date. For now, she just had to get on with it.

So, she had injected the trialists with the new vaccine, taken them into the lab, and then injected the virus. The original plan was to have Kelly restrained, but she had pleaded with the admiral to simply have an extra guard in the lab with them and he had agreed. After injecting the virus she had left Vyerni's doctor in charge and come out of the lab to brainstorm again as to why the first vaccine hadn't worked. There was something at the edge of her mind that she couldn't quite get her head round and the lack of sleep last night, and the pain from her beating, hadn't helped her.

As with the first trial, at first the vaccine had seemed to work. But then the virus had taken over. Ava had been the first to exhibit symptoms. They had tried everything they could to slow down the onset of the virus with even Vyerni's doctor making some suggestions. But nothing had worked.

But then Rachel had had a revelation. What if they used the Arctic strain of the virus, the primordial strain, as a Trojan horse to mask Niels' gene in the virus? Rachel's samples had been brought onto the ship with her when she had first been kidnapped. With shaking hands she had started the process to manufacture the modified vaccine. Knowing that time was critical.

But she had been too late. 14 hours after the first symptoms appeared, an hour after Rachel's revelation, with her Mum holding her hand, Ava had died.

As the life support machine had flatlined, Rachel had looked up from the corner of the lab where she was rushing to make up the new vaccine, and Kelly had gone nuts. She had rounded, screaming, on Dr Blatov, Vyerni's doctor, grabbed a syringe and sunk it into his chest. The guard assigned to keep control of her had obviously not been paying attention but as the syringe pierced Blatov's suit he had finally sprung into action, shooting Kelly twice in the back with his gun. They had both crashed to the ground, pulling down a tray of medical tools as they did.

When the dust settled Kelly Tophet was dead and Blatov was dying and had been exposed to the virus, meaning it was impossible to take him to the medical bay. Rachel had honestly tried to save his life, but Blatov had died within 20 minutes of his injury. Ruskov had been livid and had promptly shot the inattentive guard in the head as soon as he had exited decontamination on the Admiral's orders.

While Rachel was absolutely distraught about Kelly and Ava's deaths, part of her brain was appreciative because Dr Blatov was the only remaining doctor onboard Vyerni and he could have seriously stymied her plans for testing the adapted vaccine without being found out. There were now just four test subjects left and Ruskov had stormed out, leaving her to run the rest of the trial. She had asked Voronov for another person to help her in the lab and he had detailed the only other Russian in the room, another Lieutenant, to find one.

After trying to reassure the four remaining trialists, while Voronov stood outside the lab translating for them, she had gone back to her experiment, which she felt she was close to finishing.

And, eventually, she had finished. And that was when she'd made the second decision which pained her conscience. If what she had invented was a cure, then Ruskov couldn't know. She had to make it airborne and allow it to be transmitted before she could let on to anyone that she had a cure. Which meant that whether the cure worked or not, these men still had to die. She resolved to herself that, if it was a cure, she could overdose them with morphine and that they wouldn't have to die the horrific death that the first six had suffered, but she would still have to kill them.

She had taken a deep breath and then 18 hours after the first signs of infection she had injected two of them with her experimental cure and two with a placebo. She had then gone on "experimenting" and injecting placebos every few hours. Three hours later it was clear that the cure was working. She had had her assigned helper take some blood from each of the men every hour on the hour. That kept him busy and allowed her to do what she needed to do. For the two dying men she started injecting morphine for the overdose, but she had to see if the cure in the other two could go full course. Her volunteer had happily dozed off when she gave him a break, after six hours, which allowed her to manage events as she saw fit.

Seven hours after injecting the cure she had killed the last two men with a massive morphine overdose.

She knew what she had to do now. She had to put on an Oscar-worthy performance. She knew she was skating on thin ice and she knew she was likely to get a beating for failing again but she was now within touching distance of getting a cure and she knew she needed to take this chance.

Taking a deep breath she asked Voronov to call Ruskov, as she stripped out of her gear and went through decon. He arrived quickly.

"So, Doctor Scott, what news?"

She looked him in the eye. "I'm afraid all your men have passed away, Admiral," she replied, "But there has been a bit of a breakthrough."

"My men are dead, but you say you have a breakthrough. Is this some kind of sick joke, Doctor?" he grated at her.

She allowed some of her fatigue to show, "No Admiral, it isn't. I believe I've discovered a way to mask Niels' gene in the virus that will make the vaccine work." She could tell he was paying attention to her now. "I only discovered it as I was working on iterations to try and save your men. I tried at least four different iterations, Admiral."

He stared at her for many moments and her heart thumped as she thought, this is it. _He either loses it now or he asks for more information_.

Finally, after a few seconds he replied, "Tell me more Doctor."

"Do you know what DNA scissors are, Admiral?" She couldn't think of any way that he would but a little bit of technobabble was always great at bringing people in.

"No Doctor, I have no idea," he replied, "please explain."

"As we discussed a few weeks ago Admiral, I think some of Mr Sorenson's genetic material could help us fashion the cure. I understand how to do that now. I will use these DNA scissors to extract material from Sorenson's organs to use in the vaccine. Unfortunately, it will be very painful for Mr Sorenson and will probably kill him."

"Ah. I don't think any of us will be upset about that Doctor, given what he's done. How long will it take you to manufacture the DNA scissors?" She could see she had him now, but this part was fraught with danger.

"I read a paper last year Admiral on the existence of these DNA scissors in the bacteria which resides in particular species of freshwater mussels. If we can procure some live mussels then I can extract the DNA scissors in a few days. If I have to manufacture them, it could take months and we would need more equipment than we have here." She tried to keep as much eye contact as she could with him, but she was afraid of how he would react.

"And where would we find these mussels, Doctor?"

Now for the difficult part. "They are native to freshwater lakes on the east coast of the United States, Admiral," she told him, hurrying on before he could build up a head of steam. "I know you don't want to go there but I can give you a list of four lakes within easy distance of the coast and you can select which one yourself Admiral." She stopped, praying internally that he wouldn't react negatively.

"So let me get this right Doctor. Despite the American destroyer looking for us, you want me to go back to the United States?"

"I'm sorry Admiral," she replied, "if there was any other way I would tell you. But if you know the Americans are looking for you now, you can avoid them can't you?" she thought if she pandered to his ego she might just get away with it.

"I will think about it, Doctor," she supposed that was about as good as it got under the circumstances. "How long will it take you to develop a vaccine after you have Mr Sorenson's genetic material?"

She knew she had to be definitive. She couldn't prevaricate any more. "I'm thinking about a week to ten days Admiral. It's very detailed and accurate work and I have to do it at a cellular level." That was bullshit but he couldn't know that.

"It will take us about six days to get to the US and source the mussels. So, you are telling me that within three weeks we can have a working vaccine?"

 _Yes, or I will have found a way to escape, but you don't need to know that_. "Yes, Admiral, it should be possible." She said instead.

"That is good news, Doctor. We will not stay on the American coast once we have procured the mussels. We need to refuel and re-provision and we will not want to be near our American friends, so we will head for the French coast. So, you are saying that by the time we get to Europe we should have a vaccine? We won't need NBC suits?"

"No, Admiral. That would be the plan." _This is perfect_ , she thought, _if I'm successful they can spread the cure themselves in France without knowing it. Then I just have to take care of the rest of the world. No pressure, then!_ The other problem would be how could she escape in France. She knew Nathan James was looking for her in the US, but they wouldn't be in France. But she spoke French, so she'd need to either link up with someone in France or get transport to the UK. I can do this, she thought.

"OK Doctor. Despite the deaths, you have made progress. I will leave you to your work here. I will expect you at dinner tomorrow night." That wasn't something to look forward to, but she didn't think he would do anything when he needed her and she was back on track in his eyes. At least she hoped not.

He swept out of the room, leaving her with Voronov.

She wasn't sure how she should feel. Apparently, he had decided that punishment was not necessary this time, but of course he could change his mind at the snap of a finger, so she wasn't counting on that. She was physically exhausted and emotionally the deaths of Kelly and Ava, Bodrov and the four Russians weighed heavy on her.

But she had work to do. She needed to sort out the lab and make sure today's developments were recorded in her private shorthand and her story for Ruskov was correctly written up on all the IT equipment. Because she had to keep dual notes. She didn't think he had anyone who looked at her work but she couldn't take the chance he didn't. Hence anything that went on the laptop he'd provided needed to be sterilised. Before she ran she would take a USB stick with the information she would need and she would also have her paper notes in case anything happened to the USB.

But for now perhaps if she focused on work for a bit longer she could fall asleep and hopefully her demons would stay away.

* * *

 _A/N1 Even though Kirov class battlecruisers have nuclear reactors, their range is only unlimited at 20 knots. For high speed cruising they use combined propulsion which uses steam turbines, hence they do need to take on fuel if they are doing sustained cruising at high speeds._

 _A/N2 I've uploaded a bonus chapter so we can get all the nasty stuff (for now) out of the way in one go._


	7. Vyerni: Chapter 6

_I do not own The Last Ship._

 **Part 1: Chapter 6**

 **12 November 2014**

 _She looks better_ , Artur thought as he leaned against the bulkhead while Dr Scott worked in her lab. It was mid-morning and she'd only just started, after he'd insisted she had a lie in after working all nighters for the past few days.

He'd been worried about her yesterday. He had seen the utter helplessness on her face as she tried to come up with something to help the little girl Ava, but she had died anyway. He had seen the shock as Ava's mother effectively committed suicide and then the self-disgust as the other men in the trial had succumbed to the virus. He was surprised to see so much self-disgust on her face, but he supposed this made it over 10 people that had died in her trials now and that must weigh on her.

And then he had seen the fear as she asked him to call the Admiral. But mixed in with the fear, a kind of defiance. She had played the Admiral well, even he could admit that. And she had got away with it.

And he had been pleased that they were now heading for the US because it made it more likely that his plan would work. The closer they were to the US coast the more likely Nathan James would be to pick up his signal and, if he could bring them into visual range, he might be able to communicate with them. That was a long shot, but it was worth a try. It would take four more days to get to the US coast and then a day to source the mussels, and they would be in range of US radio receivers for another day on the way back. Hopefully Nathan James would be close enough to hear them and would be able to decipher his signal.

 **17 November 2014**

"The helicopter is on its way back, Doctor" Ruskov told her as he entered the lab, "they will be here in about two hours. How long will it take you to fashion the DNA scissors?"

"I think two to three days Admiral," she told him, looking up from her work but not making eye contact with him. She didn't want to appear too challenging but she also didn't want to appear rude. He was quite unstable and she'd prefer that he thought of her as submissive. He was quick to anger and very free with his slaps and she didn't enjoy those at all. She was convinced he was psychotic; he could lapse from charming and urbane into rage in milliseconds. Dinner a few nights ago had almost been pleasant if there hadn't been the fear at the back of her mind that she would say the wrong thing and be strung up and beaten.

"And then we can be rid of Mr Sorenson once and for all," he mused. "Tell me Doctor, how painful will it be again?"

He had come back to this a lot during the last few days. She thought that he must have lost someone very special to him to be so angry at Sorenson. "I'm going to separate the viral gene from his own genes inside his lungs Admiral, and the virus will explode out of his lungs and into the rest of his body, and in an accelerated way. He will bleed from every orifice and he will be in excruciating pain for the five minutes it takes for the virus to flush through his body. It will be extremely unpleasant."

While she was unhappy with the semantics of this, the sheer lack of remorse that Sorenson had shown had repelled her, and certainly made it easier for her to consider what she was doing. His would be the fifth death that she was directly responsible for; the fifth person that she would have killed intentionally. She hated it. She was a doctor. It was her job to save lives, not to take them. But it had to be done. There was no way that Ruskov would make the cure freely available. And there may even not be significant infrastructure available for manufacture of the cure now. It had to be airborne. It was the only way to get enough critical mass to cure enough people.

She supposed she would have to face the music at some point. She wanted to. She didn't think she could keep this bottled up inside her. But whether she was dead and she was being judged by a higher power or whether she was alive and being judged in a court, she still had to believe that five people's lives were worth millions, perhaps billions, of people's lives. She remembered the key line from a film that she'd liked when she'd been growing up _"the needs of the many far outweigh the needs of the few, or the one"_. She had to believe that.

Ruskov had seemed to drink up her description and he was quiet for a few seconds. He actually seemed to be picturing it in his head. "Very good Doctor," he told her, "let me know when you are ready."

 **25 November 2014**

Rachel closed her eyes and leaned her head against her microscope. _It's done_ , she thought.

Sorenson's death had been just as horrific as she had expected. She hadn't seen him since she'd shopped him to Ruskov nearly seven weeks ago and she could tell that Ruskov (or rather Vladimir) had used him as a punch bag. He was thinner than he had been and his face was bruised and his clothes were covered in filth and blood.

All of the contents of his lab had been transferred to hers that day so all that was left in the room he inhabited was the plastic room, cot, airlock and detox area and his sanitary equipment. He lay on the cot and had barely moved when she entered the area in her NBC suit carrying the IV bag into which she had mixed the DNA scissors. They had an audience. Ruskov, also in an NBC suit was in the lab, and some of his officers were standing outside, watching the show.

As she inserted the cannula, which was difficult because of his thinness, he became aware of her presence and focused on her face. He didn't have his glasses so it took him a while to work out who she was. "I helped you," he muttered.

"Yes you did," she had replied, as she connected the IV bag, "and now you're going to help all of us."

She had turned to the Admiral as she moved away from the soon to be dead man, "It's started Admiral."

He had moved up beside Sorenson. She had never seen him look so sinister, despite the NBC suit which covered most of his features, "For my beautiful Natalya," he grated, "and my three lovely children Tanya, Mikail and Irina. And for everybody else you killed. I sentence you Niels Sorenson to death. May you burn in Hell."

While she would rather be anywhere else, she thought it was important to be there given she was the one who had actually killed Sorenson. It was her responsibility. She watched as blood came out of his eyes and then his mouth. He twitched and jerked on the cot and then, after a few minutes, he was still.

"Is it over Doctor?" asked Ruskov.

"Yes Admiral," she had replied.

He suddenly seemed tired, "Good…good," he said, "I will leave you to your work," and he swept out to change and left with his officers, leaving her alone with Voronov, and Sorenson's body.

She had taken what she needed from Sorenson, his lungs, other organs and lots of blood and then she had moved back to her own lab to get on with her work.

That was five days ago and now she had done what she needed. The cure was airborne. Now she just needed to test it.

 **27 November 2014**

 _Well, here we are_ , thought Rachel. All of her theoretical tests and those on mice and monkeys had worked out. The only way to test it now was on herself. They were a day away from the French coast and she knew if she was to escape it had to be soon. Ruskov would soon order another vaccine test and, given his price for failure, he must expect there was a risk that she would try to run, so presumably she would have heightened security in the days running up to the test.

If she tried the contagious cure on herself now she would probably infect the Russians as well but that couldn't be helped. The only problem she had was that the cure was only contagious for 6-7 days after it was transferred. So she needed to get into contact with other people within that time, because she couldn't give it to herself twice.

If she escaped, she could do it. If she didn't and they caught her they would presumably keep her alive long enough to "finish" her research after they'd finished "teaching" her the error of her ways. But she didn't think she'd last long after that. While she had access to her research tools she would be able to kill herself if she needed to and at that point, after her last throw of the dice, she might need to. Because she didn't fancy being a brood mare for Ruskov or any or all of his officers for the rest of her life.

While she thought that Voronov had warmed to her, she didn't think she could take the chance at this stage to tell him her full plan. Perhaps if she was caught she could discuss it with him at that time because she wouldn't have anything to lose then. Voronov had to suspect she was up to something because, knowing she was getting ready to test whether the contagious cure was effective, she had asked him whether he could appoint a different guard for this afternoon.

The only way for her to test the contagious cure would be to inject mice and for her to breathe on them, but she'd have to do it outside the lab. If the cure didn't work then whoever was with her in the room had a good chance of dying because the virus would then be airborne, even though she would be OK because she knew the cure itself worked even if the airborne part didn't. She'd figured she owed it to Voronov for him not to be the first to die if she'd cocked it up. If she hadn't cocked it up the guard would be the one to start transmitting the cure on the Vyerni. But hopefully they wouldn't discover that.

She knew they were heading for the port of Brest to gather supplies. She'd been really excited when she heard that. Brest was only a few hundred kilometres from the UK by boat and she knew she could find the infrastructure she needed in the UK. Failing that, there was a lab in Nantes she could get to and hope it was still in one piece. But she'd never lived in France and her French was learned in West Africa from when she'd travelled with her father, so she thought she'd be better able to communicate in the UK.

Whichever way she looked at it, the situation was imperfect. But she would have to take a chance.

 **28 November 2014**

She was going tonight. The airborne cure had worked. She had gathered her materials and secreted them, she had a backup USB stick and she had cleared the information on the laptop by re-installing Windows, and she'd managed to remove the screws on the lock of the door of her stateroom last night and sneak out without appearing to set off any alarm. Tonight was the time. _Bonne chance à moi_.

* * *

Artur Voronin was a bit perplexed. Yesterday the Doctor had insisted that he not be on duty in the afternoon. She hadn't said anything but he'd clearly got the idea that it was for his own good. He had asked Igor Mikhailovich, who had been assigned, if anything strange happened and he had denied it. He had confirmed that Doctor Scott had skipped dinner again because she was so busy working and he had escorted her back to her stateroom just after midnight. This was such a common state of affairs for Doctor Scott that it wasn't even worth commenting on. But why had she wanted him out of the way?

This morning she had been almost effusive with him. When he had come to escort her to breakfast she had insisted on shaking his hand and when she questioned him as to why he was a bit subdued and he explained that it was his son's birthday, she had placed her hand on his cheek and squeezed. This sort of behaviour was totally atypical for her and he wondered what was up? The day had been like any other, apart from that she had knocked off early at 20.00 hours. He had escorted her for dinner then left her in her cabin at 21.00 because she had told him she wanted an early night.

Now he was sitting in the security office and it was nearly 22.30. the phone rang on the wall and he answered it. The Captain wanted him on the bridge to discuss security arrangements in port. He got up and left the office open. Mikhail would be arriving in about an hour to take on the night shift, so hopefully everything should be OK until that time.

* * *

 _Bonne chance à moi: Good luck to me_

 _A/N This is the last Vyerni chapter. From next chapter we are back on the Nathan James._


	8. Nathan James: Chapter 1

_I do not own The Last Ship._

 **Part 2: Nathan James**

 **Part 2: Chapter 1**

 **4 October 2014**

"How long, Doc?" he asked as he strode up to Rios, who was tending to Lieutenant Green. _What a clusterfuck._ Three SEALs dead, Dr Tophet dead, Dr Scott missing, Green injured, four injured on Nathan James, the dog injured and Nathan James damaged. And he still had no idea what was going on.

"Captain?" called Green, reaching out for him.

"You can talk to him now Captain, but I need to see him in the Medical Bay as soon as possible." Rios replied, looking up from checking a bloody tourniquet on Green's arm.

It had been 90 minutes until Burk's team, with the assistance of the UAV, had managed to locate all the bodies on the ground. And night was close to falling before Green managed to signal Nathan James. It seemed his radio had been damaged and he had ended up using a mirror to signal the ship from the shore. They had sent the helo to bring him back.

"What happened, Lieutenant?" he asked sharply. He wasn't angry with Green but he _was_ livid with the situation.

"Need to go inside, sir. Privacy." The Lieutenant was shivering.

"Agreed." The scientists' lab was right next door to the helo bay. He invited Green into a seat. "Report!"

"Sir, we were attacked by the Russians. Berkow and Smith took out one of the choppers with a SAM but their snowmobile was hit with a rocket. Frankie and I killed the other chopper but there were troops on the ground. Dr Scott was shot and I sent Frankie off with Tophet while I took the Doctor. Just as I was catching them up someone took out Frankie. They were both killed and then we were attacked as well. I managed to get the guy closest to us, but Doctor Scott was trapped under the vehicle and there was still at least one more of them out there. She ordered me to take the samples and escape and evade. She said the samples were more important than her life and they could make the difference between life and death to a lot of people.

"Captain, she said that she was carrying sealed orders from the Pentagon in the safe in her stateroom and that the combination code is her birthday. Six digits." Here he drew a breath, "and sir, she said that she was sorry you had to find out this way."

 _God-damnit_ , thought Chandler as the litany of disaster spilled out of the Lieutenant's mouth. He would have to reserve judgement on the lieutenant's actions until he saw the sealed orders. He hadn't really thought too much about Dr Rachel Scott until three days ago but after their exchange in the corridor he had thought about her a lot. For starters he thought he'd been a bit arrogant with her, but the woman had deserved it – challenging his authority in the middle of the corridor _on his ship_. He'd stamped on her – HARD. Nobody challenged the Captain's authority in public.

He wondered what she'd been working on that was so important? The "sorry he had to find out this way" comment was particularly disturbing. It looked like he was about to find out what was going on. He faced Green. "OK, thank you lieutenant. I'm sorry for your losses today. We'll take care of your people. Get yourself to the medbay and get yourself taken care of. We'll talk later."

He turned to leave, surprised when Green called, "Sir, were there any casualties on the ship?"

He briefly faced the lieutenant, "some shrapnel injuries among the flight crew from the one we took close aboard aft, and a couple of injuries from the evasive action, but nothing serious."

He was already out the door as he heard the lieutenant's "thank you sir."

* * *

Tom Chandler felt sick. He had the sealed orders and her journal. _The world is dying and I'm not with Darien and the kids. I hope they're OK._ There was more in her journals than he could possibly take in in one go. He had focused on the past few entries after reading the sealed orders. The orders had been put together for him in a situation where there was no contact with higher authority when they broke radio silence. They were four months out of date, but the details from her journals showed the acceleration in the virus and how serious things had gotten very quickly over the past 2-3 months.

Reading her private journal had significantly increased his respect for Dr Rachel Scott. This woman had had the weight of the world on her shoulders for months and had given no sign. And it was clear from her journals that Scott had had to fight hard for this mission. She had fought the bureaucracy because she believed that she could find the key component to fight the virus here. And from the sounds of it, she'd been right. Now the Russians had taken her but she'd made sure that he got her samples. If she was right then this was the key to saving the world, and she'd been prepared to trade her life for it. If there was any way to get her back from the Russians he'd be the first to volunteer. Because they owed her.

He was sat at his desk and he knew he was killing time. He needed to call home, whether it was Admiral Murray, the Pentagon, SecDef or even the President, he needed to get orders. But he didn't want to hear how bad it was. He didn't want to know if his wife was dead. His kids, his father, his siblings, his friends. While he'd been happily carrying out his orders here, they'd been dying, and from Dr Scott's notes they hadn't been dying in a pleasant way.

 _Anyway, worrying about it's not going to help._ He picked up the phone to call Mike.

* * *

"Captain, I have the President of the United States on the vidcom." Mike had appeared at the door of his cabin with that news and he had accompanied him to the Comms center, still dreading what was about to happen.

His mood had not improved any when the President that he knew had not taken his place at the desk. Instead it was the Speaker of the House, who informed him that both the President and Vice President were dead. She looked awful then, but not as awful as she had when she had asked whether Dr Scott had what she needed to make a cure and he'd had to explain about the attack.

He had concluded, "but Doctor Scott gave the samples to the SEAL commander and he was able to get them back to us. Even though Doctor Scott was captured by the Russians, we have the samples."

She had looked at him for a long moment. "I don't think you understand Captain. Our laboratory network has been destroyed or fallen out of contact. Doctor Scott was the sole remaining senior virologist that we have access to."

He had been flabbergasted, "But what about USAMRIID?" he had gasped.

"Destroyed," she told him. "Laboratories have been targeted. We don't know who's doing it. Some have been taken down by what look like missile strikes. Others burnt and looted. We don't know where our virologists are or even if they're alive. We have people with the skills to manufacture vaccines, but we don't have any senior people with the ability to design them.

"I curse myself that we didn't tell you of the situation when you checked in three days ago. Dr Scott's call was taken by the stand-in National Security Advisor and he spoke directly to your chain of command. I didn't hear about it until afterwards and you were back under EMCON by then so I didn't bother. We could have taken the time then to tell you to increase the protection on the scientists… Hold please Captain" She had looked away and talked to someone off camera for a minute.

"Captain, I have new orders for you. You are to do anything within your power to locate and liberate Dr Rachel Scott so that she can start work on developing a vaccine for the Red Flu. I fear that without her, everything we hold dear may end. I'm sorry to do this to you Captain after you've already been away for so long, but our military has been totally decimated. Because you were outside the hot zone, you're the only ship we have with an uninfected ship's company."

He was so flummoxed by the scale of the thing. The US Navy had around 300 ships, the last he'd heard. To be the only one left was terrible. He said the first thing on his mind, "What about the Russians?"

" **Russia no longer has a functioning government, Captain** ," she replied. " **From what we're hearing a breakaway force is operating on its own authority.** We'll see if we can get you any intelligence on its composition."

" **Ma'am, our families? How do we find out if…?** " he questioned.

She looked at him empathically, " **I wish I could tell you Captain. Most of our population and our Armed Forces is dying or dead. We have no allies, we have no enemies. Just a world of sick, desperate people**. I'm sorry not to be able to give you better news Captain, but you see how vital Dr Scott is to us?"

"Yes Ma'am," he replied, "I understand. We'll do our best."

"Thank you, Captain," she smiled sadly, "that's all anyone can ask. We'll try and keep in touch every day, but if we fall out of contact, you know what you need to do."

"Yes Ma'am," he repeated as the screen flashed off.

He stared at the screen for what felt like hours, trying to get his thoughts in order. To focus on the task in hand, to develop a priority list. First up, they needed to refuel and re-provision. Then they could think about going after Dr Scott. Presumably the Russians kidnapped her to work on a vaccine for them. He needed to go through her journals in detail and see if she might have left any clues as to what her steps would be after she found the primordial strain and where she might go. He'd need to have others read them as well to make sure he didn't miss anything. He needed to tell the crew so that they could contact their families. And he needed to contact his own family as well. _Please God let them be OK_.

As he stepped out of the Comms room, Mike was waiting for him looking extremely grim.

"Captain, there's something you need to see," he told Tom.

"What is it XO? We need to have a chat anyway. Can this wait?" he replied

"Absolutely not, Captain."

"Lead the way then Commander," he told Mike, formal in front of the CIC crew.

Mike led him down to the hangar deck where they had initially dropped off the bodies of the dead SEALs and the dead scientist. He was happy to walk in silence, still weighed down by what he had discovered in the last hour.

As they entered the hangar deck, Mike piped up, "We were preparing the bodies when we found it." He gestured to a table at the side on which sat a small, rectangular metallic object.

"Is that-?" he questioned.

"It's a homing device, Captain. I asked Mason to look at it and he confirmed it."

"Which one?" he grated.

"Dr Tophet," replied Mike, looking grim, "And that's not all. When we realised what this was, we looked in the lab and through Tophet's things. They have a sat phone here!"

"Yes, I know, Dr Scott's been using it to keep in touch with the labs back home, and the White House," he observed somewhat sarcastically, "that's why our mission was extended." He started putting everything together, "that must be how the Russians traced us."

"They didn't need to Captain. Tophet's been in touch with the Russians on the sat phone."

"What?!"

"He wrote up a letter last night for Dr Scott in case he was killed today. He must have known they were coming. The Russians were blackmailing him. They have his wife and daughter. He's left the frequencies and call signs he used."

Chandler was hard-pressed to keep the smile off his face. _Finally, a break_. "So, with a little bit of luck we may be able to use the sat phone to track the Russians?" he asked.

"Maybe Tom, but why?" Mike looked puzzled, "we have the samples, don't we? We can just take them home"

"Unfortunately, it's a bit more complicated than that Mike." He told him, "I think you'd better come to my cabin."

 **5 October 2014**

Lieutenant Daniel Green wanted to scream. He had lost his team, and then he had lost Dr Rachel Scott too. He wasn't sure which hurt most. On a personal level he had been with his team for three years, known Frankie for five. He and Frankie had always got on well off duty when Frankie was with other units and when Frankie was assigned to his team it was the start of a brilliant period for Danny. They enjoyed their work and they enjoyed their play and Frankie had been a brilliant wingman. Berkow and Smith were great guys as well but not as close as Frankie. But now they were all gone.

So, personally he was hurting. But professionally he was hurting as well. He had let Dr Scott persuade him to leave her, even though his gut had told him he should stay with her. Sure, with the information she'd had at the time, and the information she'd given him, it had been the right decision, but in retrospect he had totally fucked up. The Captain and XO had given him their full backing when he had had his detailed debrief with them, but he knew he'd screwed up. He should have stayed with, and tried to protect, her instead of following her orders.

And the degree to which he'd fucked up had only been obvious when the Captain had briefed his senior officers and the Master Chief. He was surprised to find he and Lieutenant Burk had been added to the group, which already included the TAO, Chief Engineer and XO, but it had become clear why as the Captain got to the crux of the situation. They needed more boarding teams if they were going to storm the Russian ship to bring back the Doctor.

So he and Burk had been put in charge of training three boarding and tactical teams to an elite standard. Like that was going to be easy! It took years to train a SEAL. They had three weeks! While the ship already had a boarding team of six, they were not exactly elite, and they would need at least 12 for what the Captain had in mind. There was lots of work to do to bring everyone up to speed.

They had a little time at least. They were on their way to France to a remote refuelling station that the Captain knew about. He'd announced it, and told the crew a slightly less detailed version of their situation than he had shared with the senior officers. To conserve fuel they were running at trail-shaft and it could take 10 more days to get there. So lots of time to train.

And then there was Kara. He'd been so relieved when the Captain had implied there'd been no serious injuries and he'd felt a traitor to his people because he was thinking about her instead of them. She'd "bumped into" him in the corridor near one of their frequent meeting places yesterday evening. Her expressive hazel eyes were full of tears. She'd told him, "Danny, I'm so sorry about Frankie," he hadn't known what to do. It was before the Captain's briefing then and he hadn't known how massively he'd screwed up. He'd just held her for a couple of minutes. Then there was a sound from outside and they'd had to go their separate ways.

She'd been at breakfast this morning as well and he'd seen her looking at him. He wondered why she bothered. He obviously wasn't any great catch. Crap at his job; couldn't protect his primary or his team. The next time he met her he'd blow her off. Tell her that she could do better. It broke his heart because he thought she was really special. Damn, why couldn't this have been a routine mission? They'd already be back at Norfolk and in separate commands and then the fraternisation rules wouldn't apply. And none of this would have happened. And Frankie and his men would still be alive.

 _A/N Bold text is from The Last Ship episode, Phase Six_


	9. Nathan James: Interlude 1

_I do not own The Last Ship_

 **Part 2: Interlude 1**

"Ship's Company. Atten-shun!" shouted the Master Chief, and they all braced to attention as he saluted, and the Captain told them to stand at ease and then moved up to stand on a box in front of them. There had been rumours on top of rumours since the shore parties had returned with the bodies of the SEAL team and Dr Tophet, and Danny had finally come aboard. Dr Scott was nowhere to be seen and she felt bad that the last time she had seen the woman, she'd blanked her. The Captain had looked through her in CIC earlier today and that had never happened before. Whatever was coming was bad.

She couldn't help but hope that it would be quick though, because it was freezing cold on Nathan James' flight deck, even surrounded by the rest of the crew!

" **I have news** ," stated the Captain, " **from home**."

He paused, looking out across the assembled ship's company.

"A lot has happened while we've been at Emcon, and most of it hasn't been good," he paused again, "We thought we were at Emcon to protect our weapons testing mission, but it turns out we were at Emcon to protect Dr Scott's and Dr Tophet's mission.

"It doesn't make me happy, and I'm sure that it won't make you happy, to know that we were misled about the nature of their mission, or in fact about who they were.

"I've spoken to a number of people since the attacks yesterday, including the President of the United States," there was an excited murmuring, "Much of what I'm telling you now I've gleaned from Dr Scott's journals and, as you will see, I'm very grateful that she has kept a journal.

"I'm telling you what I'm telling you because I think it's important that you know. It's not normal for the Captain to share as much information with the crew as I'm doing in this instance, but given that we have lived a lie for the past four months I think it's important that you have all the information.

"You see, six months ago there was a viral outbreak in Egypt. Doctor Scott, in her role as Medical Director of the CDC, was sent to gather samples of the virus with the hope of developing a vaccine. But nothing worked. The CDC and WHO, as well as military medical scientists, dropped massive resources into researching a vaccine, but they couldn't find anything."

Kara looked around, everyone was transfixed by what the Captain was saying, eating up his words.

"In the mean-time the virus was on the move. It spread outside Egypt and to other places in Africa, Europe and Asia. Dr Scott hypothesised that scientists needed the primordial strain of the virus to be able to develop a cure, and she believed that the primordial strain was in the Arctic. She believed that birds were the carriers of the disease into populated areas, like the Avian Flu outbreak a few years ago.

"But the bureaucracy wasn't ready to move. Dr Scott fought the scientific and governmental bureaucracy for four solid weeks to get the resources to pursue her theory. And she won. Our ship was allocated to support her mission.

"We left Norfolk in May. As you know, we were under Emcon. Doctor Scott was not. She needed to keep in touch with the labs back home. Sometime during the Summer, the behaviour of the virus changed. It became more contagious. More people started to die. Laboratories were going off the air and Doctor Scott knew that the fate of the world rested on her ability to locate the primordial strain.

"I know that many of us thought Doctor Scott was a bit arrogant when she was here. She made no attempt to mix with the crew. She was anti-social, impolite." He paused, "Perhaps having the fate of the world on your shoulders does that to a person."

Kara couldn't have felt much worse about herself at that moment.

"When we left Norfolk, we were at the level that virologists call phase two. Now we are at phase six. There's no easy way to tell you this, but almost eighty percent of the world's population has been infected by the virus."

The Captain paused as Kara looked around at Alisha and mouthed "eighty percent"? Was her Mom alive, her friends? The same reaction was going on around them, as people tried to digest the Captain's message. He waited for the noise to die down.

"I know how you feel. While we were being kept at Emcon our families, our friends may very well have been dying. The President told me that basic infrastructure has broken down at home and all the way around the world. Governments have fallen, communication has collapsed.

"Now you're probably thinking that we should get back home as soon as possible." There were a number of affirmative noises. "Unfortunately, that won't be possible. I need to explain a bit more about what happened yesterday so you will understand why."

"Yesterday we were attacked by a breakaway Russian faction that wants to control any cure or vaccine. It was not a fluke that the Russians came here. We have subsequently discovered that Dr Tophet was being blackmailed to share our position with the Russians. Dr Scott actually secured the material she would have needed the day before yesterday, but Dr Tophet pretended that it was infected, extending the mission by a further day." Here the Captain's voice was sub-Arctic, "Dr Tophet was killed in the attack, so he cannot pay for his crimes."

"As you know we were attacked and the scientific team on shore was attacked. All the SEALs, except Lieutenant Green, were killed defending them, and Dr Scott was injured. Dr Scott knew that the samples were vital to the labs back home and, so far as she knew, there were enough labs back home to work with the samples. She ordered Lieutenant Green to leave her and to get back to the ship with her samples." The Captain paused. "In short, Doctor Scott was prepared to give up her life for the mission."

Again, he paused while the crew digested this. Kara found that it was, indeed, possible to feel worse about herself than she already had. _How did I so totally misjudge her?_

"Unfortunately, Doctor Scott was not aware of information which we have subsequently been made aware of. Somewhere out there is a movement to prevent discovery of a cure. Laboratories have been attacked, both in the US and in Europe. The President told me that USAMRIID has been levelled by cruise missiles. Many virologists have been murdered. We don't know who is attacking scientists but there have been a lot of deaths. The President told me that Doctor Rachel Scott is the sole remaining senior virologist accessible by the US Government."

 _Oh my God_ , thought Kara in horror. Others clearly had the same reaction, but this time the Captain didn't pause, and she dragged her focus back to him quickly as he ploughed on.

"Consequently, our orders have changed. Our orders come directly from the President of the United States. We have been ordered to free Rachel Scott and provide the infrastructure so that she can develop a cure for the virus which has become known as the Red Flu.

"We are heading to the north coast of France where there is an unmanned refuelling station. We have to go at the most economic speed possible because of our low fuel state. On the journey we will start training boarding teams to go after Dr Scott. If you would like to volunteer for a team, please contact your divisional officer.

"In the mean-time, I have appointed a team to analyse Dr Scott's journals to see if she left us any clues as to where we might be able to reacquire contact. There is also a possibility that we may be able to track the Russians using the radio frequencies they gave to Dr Tophet." He paused, looking around the group arrayed in front of him. She shivered as he made eye contact with her. His eyes held pain, but also purpose, and she couldn't help but be inspired.

" **We left this country four months ago as members of the United States Navy, but now we are more than that. Now our duty is to the entire world….We've lost so much already…but this is the most courageous and resilient crew with whom I have ever been privileged to serve. We will come through this together. And we will prevail**."

As the Captain stepped down, the Master Chief called them all to attention. Then he saluted the Captain and she, and the rest of the ship's company, did as well. It was time to save the world.

* * *

 _A/N1 Bold text is dialogue from episode 1 of The Last Ship, Phase Six_

 _A/N2 This one's a bonus Christmas update! Season's Greetings to all who celebrate!_


	10. Nathan James: Chapter 2

_I do not own The Last Ship._

 **Part 2: Chapter 2**

 **20 October 2014**

Chandler was sitting at his desk looking at the pictures of his family. He'd taken to wearing the bracelet that Ashley had given him rather than keeping it in his breast pocket. It made him feel closer to them. He hadn't been able to reach them when he had tried, after they came off Emcon. He'd tried all their cellphone numbers, and even his dad's, but nothing. "Widespread telecommunications failures" seemed to be the excuse of the day.

But Darien and his Dad had managed to get him an MPEG message to say that they had gone to Dad's cabin. He'd drunk up the sight of her and the kids and he still played the message to himself every night. He felt bad because most of the crew hadn't been able to get in touch with their families and loved ones. And of the few that had, there'd been a lot of bad news. Mike Slattery had lost his son, although his girls were all right, living with their Mom in a safe zone at Deer Park. He'd tried to give Mike some time off, but he'd asked to keep on working. Said it was better that way. Tom understood. Better to be contributing than stuck feeling sorry for yourself in your cabin.

They'd successfully refuelled and re-provisioned in France and were now making for Puerto Rico at flank speed. Analysis of Rachel Scott's journals had come up trumps. Given the fact that labs were going down regularly she'd taken the time the night before she'd been kidnapped to analyse what she would do if she had to manufacture a vaccine on board Nathan James. She had concluded that she'd need to get some primates from somewhere and remembered a science park at Puerto Rico that she'd visited.

While he could kiss her for including that analysis, he was a bit less pleased with her about other parts of her journals. It had only been after he'd already ordered the journals to be passed out to Mike, Garnett and Barker as co-readers that he'd realised she'd made some personal comments about members of the crew in there. And he was number one target on her list. In her first entry after they left Norfolk she had referred to him as "pretty dishy" but worried that he might be a "Mark One Military Neanderthal". While they hadn't had a lot to do with one another up until their clash in the corridor, after that she'd come back to her initial thoughts and confirmed that in her eyes although he was "pleasing on the eyes" he probably was an "arrogant Neanderthal". Mike had loved that. It was the only time he'd seen a smile on his face in those first few days after he found out about his kids, so Tom had just taken the teasing, vowing to get his own back at the appropriate time.

Apart from her read on him, she'd put in quick reads on other members of the crew which, surprisingly, he thought were dead on. She had described Mike as "very loyal and totally straight", Lieutenant Green as "thoroughly professional but bored shitless with babysitting", Garnett as "reserved but very caring" and "a bit like an elder sister to her people" and Foster as "someone who listens but doesn't say much, but will be one to watch". Given that she worked 18-20 hours a day while she was with them, and only saw his officers for minutes at a time in the wardroom, the fact that she'd built up such a good read on those around her said a lot for her analytical abilities and for her empathy as well.

And it was clear that she was a lot more empathic and caring than he had given her credit for. Reading the journals, it was clear that every lab going off the air, every colleague dying, was like a personal stake through her heart. And she'd seen the writing on the wall. She knew there was a good chance that she'd be the one that had to develop this vaccine. She'd lived with that knowledge for a long time. He hadn't known, but it had been her who had gone to Egypt right at the start of this outbreak, so she'd been living with knowledge of the virus for many, many months.

He hadn't bothered to read her file when she came on board, but he had once they'd set course for France. He hadn't realised she was so pre-eminent in her field. Medical Director of CDC was a senior position. She'd worked at the WHO and she had four degrees for God's sake. She was somebody who was a leader in her field. Who recognised the responsibilities of leadership. He determined to make more of an effort to get to know her when they managed to rescue her. He didn't even countenance that they wouldn't be able to rescue her. Because the consequences of failure were just too high.

He hoped she wouldn't be too damaged by her ordeal, because they would need her. The news coming from Washington was bad. Every day more parts of the system were going black. They had temporarily lost contact with the White House situation room twice and yesterday they had reported another outbreak in the complex. Nathan James' crew might be on their own sooner than they thought.

At least Washington had come through with some information on the Russians. Unfortunately, it wasn't good news, however. The Russians had a Kirov class battlecruiser, the Vyerni. His crew were majorly outgunned, even though Vyerni had been laid up for a long time so she wouldn't have current weapons and electronics systems. They were also out-manned. The Russian ship should have a complement of about 700. Nathan James had just over 200. If they were going to board the Russian ship, they'd have to do it in secret; they wouldn't be able to survive a frontal assault.

Luckily, they had a good chance of finding the Russians. They had been able to track the Russians' sat phone transmissions and those confirmed that the Russians were heading, as they were, towards Puerto Rico. Hopefully they would be able to intercept them and find a way to get on board and rescue the Doctor.

* * *

Danny was struggling, if truth be told. As one of life's winners he had pretty much no experience with being one of life's losers. He couldn't even dump Kara successfully. She had told him that she understood that he needed some space but if he thought she was going to leave him alone with no support after what he'd gone through, he was nuts. He loved that woman. He just wished he could tell her.

He was working himself hard with the training, hoping it would make him tired enough to sleep. But he still saw the ghosts of his team in his head every night.

The worst one was Dr Scott. He'd not had too much time for the Doctor when he'd been working with her. He'd imagined she was some sort of egg-head academic who was so far removed from the real world she probably thought pasta grew on trees. To hear that she had been working to save him and his family and his crew and everybody he held dear and he couldn't be assed to give her the time of day, hurt. He'd lost count of the number of times he woke up from a nightmare of her mutilated body with a Russian taunting him "I found something you didn't care about…"

And through it all Kara had been his rock. They didn't have sex any more, they didn't kiss very much either. They hugged. Kara was a brilliant hugger. And he needed it. Needed the reassurance that he wasn't a disaster. That he could be a SEAL again. That he could contribute. But while the chasing days went on and on, he couldn't get back on the bike. He needed some action to demonstrate that he could still contribute. Please God they'd catch the Russians. Soon.

 **24 October 2014**

"Captain, engines are back on line." Mike looked just about as depressed as he felt. They'd been so close. So damn close.

"OK, thanks Mike," he replied, "we've lost them, and we can't chase them again until we refuel and re-arm, so I think we need to head to Guantanamo Bay. There's a remote refuelling station there and food warehouses so we can re-provision. Can you get that sorted and I'll head down to the Med Bay to show my face?"

"Sure Tom," his XO replied, heading off.

Well, that sure wrapped up a brilliant week. They'd lost contact with Washington and this time he reckoned it was final. They'd made contact with the Vyerni but she'd seen them before he'd been able to get his boats away and they'd traded long-range blows. He had to be careful when he fired on the Russians but they had no such concerns and they'd blanketed his ship with missiles. His people had managed to take them all out but two had been destroyed so close aboard that shrapnel had blown a hole in the side of the ship and cut the control runs to the starboard shaft. It had taken six hours to do a patch and by that time they'd lost contact with the Vyerni and, to add insult to injury, the Russian ship had stopped transmitting sat phone signals; they'd obviously figured out what had led Nathan James to them.

What was he going to do now? How would they reacquire the Vyerni? He sighed. First things first. They had to refuel and re-arm, he supposed. They'd blown a lot of fuel crossing the Atlantic at flank speed. He could worry about what to do next after they finished at Gitmo.

 **25 October 2014**

"We're all "in" Captain," Tex Nolan told him, "we'll help you find your little lady and we'll help train your boarding parties. It's the least we can do after you got us off that rock."

Finally, some good news. Tex was the _de facto_ leader of the three remaining contractors who had released the high value Al Qaeda prisoners on Gitmo. There had originally been seven but the Al Qaeda men hadn't wanted to let bygones be bygones after they'd been let free and decided to murder all the other prison guards. And they'd tried to kill the Nathan James' crew as well.

But his people had taken care of the remaining Assbags, as Tex's friend Ethan called them, and Tex, Ethan and a former Navy SEAL called Mike had all agreed to join his crew. And aside from one slightly dented Chief Engineer, they'd managed to get out of Cuba without any additional casualties and with a fully re-fuelled and re-provisioned ship. And they'd picked up some handy weapons and electronics systems as well.

"Thanks. I'm grateful that you're willing to help out," he told Tex, "now we just have to find them."

"Did you have any thoughts on that Captain?" asked the older man.

Tom paused. Showing doubt wasn't really his style, but he was a bit stumped as to what to do. "I think we just have to try and monitor radio channels for sightings and see if we can set up some remote monitoring along the coast," he replied, "I just hope they'll stay around. I'm sure Dr Scott brought them to Puerto Rico hoping to find us. I can only hope that she'll try it again."

Tex nodded, "Sounds about right. She sounds like an impressive lady. Hope she's still in one piece."

"Amen to that," he replied. Unsaid was that if the Russian captain thought that Dr Scott had betrayed their position, he might take it out on her. He hoped she would be OK.

 **12 November 2014**

"Captain to Comms! Captain to Comms!" the announcement blared over the loudspeaker in the gym. It was 22.00 and he'd stopped in here to do some running. He needed a way to get rid of some of his nervous energy. He'd only done 5km and he needed to do much more than that to keep in shape and keep himself tired enough to sleep. They'd not had a lot of luck in finding the Vyerni over the past 14 days and it was weighing heavily on the crew and on him.

What the Hell could this be? He jumped off the treadmill, gathered his towel and ran for the exit.

When he arrived in the Comms center, Mason was practically jumping out of his skin in nervous excitement. Mike was already in the room waiting for him.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Sir," Mason said, facing him, "I think we've got something. This morning I picked up a strange static at 10.05. I was doing other things and I didn't really register it and then I heard it again this evening at 20.05 and then it came again at 21.05. I recorded it and analysed it and I think its old Morse code. It's Dot Dash Dot, Dot Dot Dot." Mason concluded, looking hopeful.

"Sorry Mason, I don't know my Morse. Dot Dot Dot is "S" isn't it?"

"Yes sir, and Dot Dash Dot is "R" sir." The kid said, almost jumping on the spot.

"Oh my God." It couldn't be.

"It spells "RS". I think it's a signal sir."

"Or it could be a trap," observed Mike, playing Devil's advocate like a good XO should.

"And it's repeated on the hour at five minutes past?" he queried.

"Yes sir."

"Can you triangulate it?" he asked.

"It's difficult sir because he's moving. From what I can see here, I think he may be coming towards us."

"Coming towards us?" he queried.

"Well, the east coast sir," he clarified.

"OK," he told Mason, making a decision, "get with Gator and I want you two to start plotting a track on this guy and see if we can't get an idea for where he's heading."

"Aye aye sir!" the kid was pleased with himself, and so he should be.

"And Mason," he told him, "Great job. Really good work." The kid broke into a huge smile, and he returned it, turning to Mike, "XO, you're with me. I think we need to make some plans."

 **17 November 2014**

"Have you got anything?" he asked Mason.

"No sir," replied the kid, and he knew the poor kid just wanted to tell him that as soon as he'd got anything he'd report it, but being the Captain had its prerogatives and one of those was that he could ask for updates when he damn well felt like it.

It was 02.00 and they'd dropped Green and his teams off at 04.00 yesterday morning under cover of darkness. They'd put people in the water all the way up the coast so that they could lay their own tracking device on the Vyerni. It was obvious from the regularity of the communication that they had a friend on board the Russian ship but they couldn't take the chance that the friend might be discovered and they'd be in the dark again. On top of that, only getting a signal once per hour would be limiting if they were plotting an attack. Hence it had been decided that they'd put their own transmitter on the ship which they could interrogate whenever they wanted.

The close proximity to the US coast had made the Russian commander wary for the past two days. Obviously not wanting to be ambushed again, they had been using their surface and air search radars. So Tom couldn't take the Nathan James into range and they certainly couldn't use boats to get close enough to board. Green had mentioned a method SEALs had used in the past which involved boarding a ship from the sea. He had reluctantly approved it. Only four of them had enough training or were powerful enough swimmers to do it, so it wouldn't work as a boarding tactic but if they could track the Vyerni they could board it at a later time when they weren't so skittish and weren't using their radars.

 _I wonder what they're doing here?_ A Russian helo had gone inland according to his spotters and now seemed to be on its way back. Maybe they wanted to sunbathe by the lake, he mused.

"Sir!" called Mason, "We've got it. The tracking device is enabled."

"Brilliant," he allowed himself a small smile. Once the Russians moved off, they could pick up Green's people and the next time they saw the Russian ship they should be leaving with Rachel Scott. Maybe things were finally looking up.

* * *

 _AN I'm assuming that they've arrived at Guantanamo Bay a day or two earlier than they did in canon. This means that Tex's best friend is still alive and the other contractor as well._


	11. Nathan James: Chapter 3

_I do not own The Last Ship._

 _Warning: There are references to torture in this chapter._

 **Part 2: Chapter 3**

 **30 November 2014**

Tom Chandler tried to walk around the corner in as relaxed a way as possible. He couldn't believe he was finally walking these corridors, dressed as a Russian petty officer no less.

The morning after the successful placing of the tracking device, the Russian ship had altered course and accelerated to full speed. Initially he'd sent the crew to General Quarters, assuming they'd been spotted, but the Vyerni had rushed away to the East North East on almost a straight-line course for the north-west coast of France. It seemed they'd got what they wanted in the US and were heading slightly closer to home waters. Tom had been surprised when he realised they were probably heading towards the same unmanned refuelling station that Nathan James had used, off the coast of France.

He'd recovered his teams and then Nathan James had set off in pursuit, praying for the opportunity to fulfil their primary mission.

It had been a difficult crossing. Winter in the Atlantic was not fun at the best of times but having to maintain high speeds and a direct course had not made for great sailing conditions and there had been times when he was worried that the ship might be battered to bits.

But they had managed to catch up and they had followed the Vyerni to the French coast where the ship was currently heading towards the French port of Brest. They had decided to carry out a reconnaissance to try and find Rachel. Unfortunately, he and Ethan were the only ones on the ship that spoke Russian. All the kids these days spoke Arabic and Farsi because that's generally where the threats came from. Hardly anyone spoke Russian. He and Ethan were both of an age when it had seemed more important to speak Russian than Arabic.

As a result he and Ethan were now aboard the Vyerni carrying out a reconnaissance. Once Vyerni moored at Brest, or wherever they were going, they would call in the strike teams and plan to rescue Rachel tomorrow night. If they could manage a quick and easy extraction, and the opportunity presented itself, they'd take her now without a shot fired and look to sink the ship afterwards. If something went wrong, they could request a boat to take them off the ship. He hoped nothing went wrong.

They were in the area that they had identified as most likely to be the detention level. They had already found what they assumed to be Rachel's lab but she hadn't been there. Tom was walking ahead with Ethan about five metres behind as back-up. As he turned the corner, there was a guard sitting in front of a door. The man was asleep. It was after all the middle of the night.

 _This must be it_ , Tom thought. Wanting to ensure that the guard stayed asleep, Tom used the vial of knock-out gas that they both carried. He should sleep for at least another 30 minutes now. As Ethan came around the corner, he signalled his intentions and asked Ethan to cover him. A quick examination of the door showed that it was locked but that the key was in it. Quickly he opened the door, stepped inside and closed it.

He was surprised that the room was in darkness. He stayed still as his night vision started to come up. Light came from around the door and there were various power lights on equipment at the end of the room. He pulled out a small pencil torch. There was a cage at the end of the room with what looked like a lump inside. _Oh no_ , he thought, _please don't let this be Rachel_. Still not moving he stretched out with his senses. He couldn't hear much because of the noise of the ship but he recognised the distinct irony tang of blood and something else that he couldn't immediately place. Gassy. Ozone? There didn't seem to be anyone else in the room. He looked around the walls and couldn't see any obvious cameras.

Quickly he walked over to the cage and shone his torch on the lump. _Oh my God_. It was her. She laid on her left side like a sack of potatoes. Naked, and skin covered in bloody cuts and weals and what looked like burns. There were bruises on her body and face, and a dribble of dried blood came from her mouth. She was breathing shallowly. _What have they done?_ He thought and at the same time, _so much for the quick extraction_. So much depended on her being able to walk and he didn't think she would be able to.

He knelt down next to her. "Rachel… Dr Scott?" he whispered quietly. He reached through the bars to touch her face, trying to find an unbloodied part. "Dr Scott?" he tried again, a bit louder and gently tapped her cheek.

"Wha-?" she muttered, eyes flicking open, groaning as she tried to lean back.

"Don't try to move Doctor," he quickly told her, "it's Commander Chandler."

"eugh…dream?" she muttered again.

"No, Doctor," he replied, "unfortunately it's totally real. I'm sorry we couldn't get to you earlier." He told her, meaning every word of it as he took in her bloodied face.

She swallowed thickly, retched and then spat out some blood from her mouth. When she spoke her voice was clearer, "If you're Commander Chandler…" a tortured breath, "what was…the last thing…you said to me?" Her voice was weak and thready. A far cry from the confident woman he'd last seen. Her eyes were fixed on his.

He smiled sadly, remembering a memory of better days. "I told you I'd take a rain-check on tea," he told her, adding, "and I'm sorry if you thought I was arrogant."

She coughed, maybe it was her attempt at a laugh, "Thank God," a breath, "I didn't believe…ever…on my own" she paused. "Captain! Quincy…working for the Russians," she told him urgently.

 _Even now she tries to protect_ , he thought. "Don't worry Doctor," he told her grimly, "Dr Tophet is dead, and we found and disabled his tracking device."

"Thank God," she muttered. Another slow, painful breath and she slowly reached out her right arm. As he looked down at the movement he looked inadvertently at her exposed breast. Angry with himself he quickly snapped his attention to her face as she spoke again, "Captain… can I touch you?"

Maybe she wanted to assure herself he was real. He gently guided her hand up to his face, not failing to miss the deep gouges in her wrist where handcuffs or bonds had clearly cut into the skin of her arms. He leaned down closer to her as he registered the sharp intake of breath when she moved her arm, as though there might be rib damage. He brought his face within centimetres of hers on the other side of the bars. He could feel her hot breath on the side of his face as her hand cupped his cheek.

"Thank God," she breathed, and all the strength went out of her limb. Her hand would have dropped if he hadn't been holding it. He gently pushed it back and laid it in the position it had come from.

"Captain…we don't…have a lot of time." He went to disagree, but her eyes held his and she gave a minuscule head shake, "please…listen." He leaned back a bit, acquiescing.

"I've been…working on the cure. Made more progress…than I told the Russians. Ruskov…wants the cure as a strategic asset-"

"Did you say Ruskov?" he interrupted harshly, and she flexed her head "Admiral Konstantin Nikolajewitsch Ruskov?" he asked.

"Yes…" she replied, "do you know him?"

"He was one of the foremost military strategists of the Cold War. I've got his book in my cabin on Nathan James," _Damn_ , he thought, _we_ _ **have**_ _to sink Vyerni_. _We can't leave Ruskov alive behind us. He's too dangerous_. He saw she was still waiting and told her, "Sorry, carry on. It was just a bit of a shock. I thought he was long-retired. You've been working behind the Russians' back?"

"Understood," she told him, "I knew Ruskov…wouldn't release the vaccine…so I would need…to make it airborne…contagious," here she paused, coughing again, "you're carrying it Captain. I just gave it to you."

"What?" he just had the presence of mind to keep his voice down.

"I developed…a contagious cure…"

"A cure, not a vaccine?" he wasn't sure he believed his ears.

"Yes, but…it's only contagious...for five, six days…you _must_ pass it…to as many as possible…as quickly…as possible"

"How?" he still couldn't believe it. His brain wanted to go off on tangents, but he forced himself to focus on what she was saying. It was hurting her to speak and he didn't want to miss any of what it was costing her so much to tell him.

"Breathing on someone…exchanging water bottle…sharing food…touching." She paused. "Captain…are we still near Brest?"

"Yes, Doctor," privately he was surprised she knew where they were.

"When I tried to escape" he gasped, realising what had happened. _Oh God, if only we'd been a few days earlier_ , he thought. She carried on "…I hid a copy of...my research materials…in the starboard lifeboat…last one from the back," she swallowed, and hacked again, "you must take them with you… the cure…needs to stay below…five degrees C."

"I'm not leaving you Doctor," he told her before he had a chance to think.

"We both know…you are Captain," she told him, "they didn't like…me trying to escape…taught me a lesson…used a hammer…on my leg…to make sure…I don't go anywhere." He felt sick, flicked his torch down to her leg and sure enough it was a bloody mess. She continued, "You won't be...contagious any more…if you go to America…but you could go to…the UK. The emergency…management system in the UK…is less centralised…than in the US. If…you could make…contact with the military…they can help…spread the cure…and you could fly it…to the US. Take my cure to the labs…start making it industrially…saving lives…please Captain?" she subsided, breathing shallowly, obviously exhausted by the long explanation.

"You've got it all worked out, don't you Doctor?" he observed, smiling at her gently.

The edges of her mouth quirked up, "had a long…time to think…about it, Captain. What is it…the military says…? Prior…planning…prevents…piss…poor…performance?"

Now he did smile. "Didn't know civilians knew that one Doctor." He thought for a moment. What she said made sense. With Nathan James they couldn't get back to the US in six days and by then none of his crew would likely be contagious, but they could get to the UK in a day and start spreading the cure from there and, if they made contact with the military, they could send planes which would arrive in the US long before Nathan James did.

"One thing…Captain," she was talking again, "my calculations suggest…that you…need to infect…a critical mass…of people…for the cure…to be…effective…in a…population pool…at least…two thousand…very important."

"OK, Doctor, we'll go to the UK." He told her.

She sighed, "Thank you Captain," her eyes closed.

"But we'll be back for you, Doctor Scott," he told her, "Don't think that we won't. You're our shipmate and the US Navy never leaves anyone behind."

"Couldn't ask for that…Captain," she paused, clearly collecting herself. She swallowed, "if you can't get me out…do you have pills…Captain?" he stared at her, realising what she was asking. "I can't take…much more of this. Please promise me…Captain. If you can't…get me out…you'll bring me…a pill? Please?" he looked at her. What must it have cost for this woman to ask for a way to commit suicide?

He touched her face, "That won't be an issue Doctor," he told her, but he could her trying to speak again, to insist, so he continued, to reassure her, "but I promise that if we can't get you out, I will personally make sure you get an L-pill."

She subsided, "Thank you…Captain." She relaxed back, "don't suppose…you're carrying any…fentanyl?"

Damn, why didn't he think of that? He was carrying a small medical pack in his pocket and as he checked, it did contain a fentanyl lozenge. If anyone ever deserved one it then it was the woman in front of him. He unwrapped it carefully, policed his trash and pushed his hand through the bars with the lozenge balanced on his fingers. She opened her mouth and licked the lozenge off his fingers. He was surprised it tickled.

There was a quiet knock on the door. _Shit! The guard must be waking up_. "Last lifeboat, starboard side aft, Doctor?" he queried.

"Yuh," she replied, eyes already closing.

"Rest now Doctor," he told her, tears in his eyes, "I'll be back for you as soon as possible." She didn't reply since she was already out. He touched her cheek briefly, as if to reassure himself. Then he quickly got up, made sure he hadn't left anything behind and made for the door. They needed to get off the ship as fast as possible and he needed to make a stop at the starboard lifeboats.

* * *

"Ah Yevgeni!" Tom Chandler paused. An officer was coming towards them and greeted them in Russian. He was a naval infantryman, by his uniform. Could he be blown? He looked at Ethan next to him. Tom had explained the situation to Ethan and they were on their way to the starboard lifeboats.

"Lieutenant? Can I help you?" he replied in the same language.

"No, I just wanted to thank you for giving me that tea. There's some food and the equipment you asked for in this bag." He pressed a sealable waterproof bag into Tom's hand, slapped him on the shoulder and walked off.

Tom shared a glance with Ethan. Did that just happen? They carried on walking. _Could that have been our friend on board?_ But if they were blown it could have been a trap to find out where Rachel had left the samples. As they rounded the corner, Tom leaned into Ethan, "You go where we discussed. I'll check this out and if it's clear I'll meet you at the exfil point in 20 mics. If it's not, just go yourself and we'll make other arrangements." Ethan just nodded and they split up.

Tom darted into a machinery space which was currently empty. In the bag were two sheets of paper and what looked like a short-range radio with headset. One of the pieces of paper was a sketch of the deck layout of the ship with CCTV blind spots and sentry points marked in. The other was a short letter.

 _I have tracked you visiting Dr Scott. I am a security officer and can control access to the security office. Contact me on the tactical radio when you return and I will make sure that you are not detected. All I ask in return is safe passage back to my family. I am also responsible for the Morse signal, RS. Boris_

He checked over the radio but couldn't see anything that looked like a homing device and the batteries were not in it, sitting in a bag taped to the unit. He didn't know what to do but decided to go with his gut instinct, which was to trust the guy. He tucked everything back in his bag and proceeded to the exfil point. He needed to get back to Nathan James as a matter of urgency.

* * *

 _A/N1 before there was an addiction problem with fentanyl it was used as an analgesic (pain killer) by both the US and UK militaries during the war in Afghanistan._

 _A/N2 Apologies for my lack of replies to reviews recently. Am suffering a bad case of man flu! Normal service will be resumed soon!_


	12. Nathan James: Chapter 4

_I do not own The Last Ship_

 **Part 2: Chapter 4**

 **30 November 2014**

"Nathan James. Arriving." Came the call as he clambered over the side of the ship. By the numbers of idlers and the disappointed faces they'd been hoping there would be more than two in his party. He returned Mike's salute sadly. He was still struggling to analyse everything that had happened tonight, and he knew there was a lot more to do and not much time to do it. He clutched the watertight bag carefully in his hand. It now also contained a vial of what he assumed was the cure, a USB stick and several pages of Rachel's handwritten notes. _I wonder when I started thinking of her as Rachel?_ He thought. _Maybe about the time I started respecting her. When she became a person to me, not an annoyance._

He signalled Mike to follow him. As soon as they got off the deck, he told him, "Get everyone from the planning group together in the wardroom Mike. I'll meet you there." He wasn't a big fan of doing things by committee but he'd set up the planning committee as a way to get other people's perspectives and experience. The enormity of what they had to deal with here meant that it was too much for one person. He needed not to make mistakes and the best way of ensuring that was to get different perspectives. He still made the final decision because that was his responsibility.

"Trouble?" asked Mike.

 _Trouble? That woman is full of it_ , he thought sadly, but he only said, "both good and bad," and walked off for a quick shower.

* * *

Danny had been on deck when the Captain came over the railing. The back up strike teams had been stood down as soon as the Captain was recovered and had already made their way back to the ship. He was disappointed that Dr Scott hadn't been among the Captain's group. He had really been hoping that she would be rescued tonight.

The Captain hadn't hung around and had disappeared inside with the XO and everyone had started to follow. The deck of a destroyer in the Atlantic in winter wasn't a great place to hang around. He had been surprised to find the XO waiting for him.

"Green. Briefing in the wardroom in 10 minutes." The XO had told him before heading off.

When Danny arrived at the wardroom after a quick stop at his cabin to drop off his gear, he was surprised to find the Captain already there. He was doubly surprised when the Captain came over and shook his hand, leaning in close and looking him squarely in the eye. From the baffled looks of the XO, Burk and Tex who were already at the table, he wondered if the Captain had done that to all of them. As Cdr Garnett came in, the Captain repeated the manoeuvre with her, and then with Ethan, the Master Chief and contractor-Mike as well. As he sat down Danny made eye contact with Burk, raising his eyebrows, but the other man gave a small shake of his head. No – he had no idea what was going on either.

Then the Captain had sat at the end of the table and dropped his bombshell. "It is my pleasure to tell you that you are all cured of the Red Flu."

"What the fuck?"

"NO way!"

"How the-?"

Danny hadn't been the only one to blurt out a response. The Captain had smiled sadly, "I guess you'll be wanting an explanation?"

"I was able to make contact with Doctor Scott while I was on the Vyerni. Doctor Scott has continued to work on finding a cure for the Red Flu but has made significantly more progress than she has told the Russians." He waited for that to sink in, "Dr Scott told me that she believed that the Russian commander planned to use a vaccine or cure as a strategic asset and, as such, he would limit access to the cure. That was not acceptable to Dr Scott, so she has concentrated on making a cure that is airborne and contagious. It can be transmitted by body contact and breathing on somebody. However, there is a problem. The cure, and it is a cure by the way, and not just a vaccine, is only contagious for five to six days. That's not enough time for us to get back to the US and still be contagious. And, even though I have a sample of the cure, without Doctor Scott we can't make more of it on board."

He paused again as everybody stared at him and at one another, lost in their thoughts. Danny had lots of questions, but one very important one, "Captain, how come you weren't able to bring Dr Scott back with you?"

The Captain's face fell and he looked down, clearly fighting for composure. When he looked up again Danny was surprised to see his eyes moist with unshed tears, "Dr Scott has been badly tortured," he told them, pausing as most people around the table gasped. Lt Commander Garnett put her hand to her mouth in horror, "Some time in the past few days she evidently tried to escape to try and get the cure out herself. The Russians recaptured her and set about teaching her a lesson. To ensure that she didn't go anywhere again they used a hammer on her legs."

"Christ," the word dropped out of Commander Slattery's mouth, almost unbidden.

The Captain continued, to stunned silence, "she was in a very bad way, and it was clearly painful for her to speak. But she explained her plan as much as she was able. She asked that we leave her on the Vyerni for now. She said it was more important to spread the cure."

 _What is it with that woman?_ Danny thought, _always asking to be left behind…_

It was only when he looked up that he realised he might have said that out loud. Slattery was staring at him and the sides of the Captain's mouth turned up, "Quite, Lieutenant Green. I completely understand how you feel.

"Dr Scott's plan was to get to the UK and she's asked us to follow through on that. She believes that the UK's emergency infrastructure is less centralised than ours and she feels that if we can make contact with the British military, we can start the distribution of the cure in the UK and abroad, by air."

"Do you think she's right sir?" asked Slattery.

"If anyone would know, she would as a senior member of the CDC," replied the Captain, continuing, "but I called you all together to ask if you have contacts in the British military? I have a few but I don't know where they're currently serving."

"What will we do when we get there sir?" asked Burk, "just breathe on them?"

"Dr Scott hid a vial of the cure and a copy of her notes and she told me where to find them. I have them. If we can find a laboratory, they can start manufacturing the cure on a large-scale and Dr Scott believes the UK military could start distributing the cure by air." The Captain paused, "there is one factor. Dr Scott told me that to get critical mass the cure needs to infect at least two thousand people in each population pool. So we, or whoever's distributing it, would need to make lots of noise about it to get people together."

The Captain looked around, "So, any ideas?"

"Captain?" Danny was the first to speak, "my team's done a few missions with the British SAS," he paused, remembering his friends, "I've been to their barracks near Hereford and I know some of the guys there. If anybody was going to hold out, it would be those guys."

"Agreed," said Tex, "those are some real tough motherfuckers. I've worked with them as well."

"And Captain," continued Danny, "it's only about 50 miles inland from the Bristol Channel. Well within range of our helo."

The Captain looked excited, "OK. XO – you and Green sit down and make a plan for when we get there. Mike, we'll need to make plans for refuelling and re-provisioning as well. I'm going to change course, brief the crew and then I'm going to get some rack time."

"Sir?" asked Burk, "What about Dr Scott? We _are_ going back for her?"

"You're damn right we are Burk!" retorted the Captain, "but we can only be in one place at a time. So we're going to sort out dissemination of the cure first. Then we're gonna go get our shipmate and we're gonna sink that ship. Then we're going home!"

The Captain looked around the table. All the occupants looked revved up, "Any other questions?" There was no answer. "OK, everyone – dismissed." They all rose, and the Captain walked out.

* * *

 **1 December 2014**

"Captain? Down there." Lt Green was pointing down to the left as the chopper flew over the outskirts of Hereford. It was funny how the farmland in different countries looked totally different, he thought. In the US everything was about scale, whereas in Britain there was a patchwork of small, irregularly-shaped fields. Everything was very green and he imagined it must look quite pretty from ground level. They had flown over the River Wye and now were flying northwest of the town of Hereford to Stirling Lines, which was where Lt Green said the SAS was based.

Green was talking to the pilot and the helicopter was descending. They were careful not to fly over the barracks itself in case someone interpreted it as an attack. The chopper set down on the road outside the main entrance and Vulture team disembarked. For this mission he had Green, Tex, the contractor Mike and Miller with him. They were all armed and armoured.

As the chopper lifted off, they all moved towards the main entrance in tactical formation.

Suddenly a voice rang out, "Stop right there! Identify yourselves!"

He smiled inwardly, first question answered. He shouted, "I'm Commander Tom Chandler, US Navy. I'm commanding officer of USS Nathan James. To whom am I speaking?"

"I'm Lieutenant Colonel Mark Richardson, Officer Commanding. To what do we owe the honour of this visit from the US Navy?"

 _OK, well time to bite the bullet_ , "We have the cure and we need to link into the UK's military and civilian infrastructure to get it distributed as fast as possible." When they discussed this, they'd decided there was no point in beating about the bush. They might as well come straight out.

"No shit. Wait out." Came the answer. There was movement, and two soldiers wearing NBC suits and carrying assault rifles came out of the gatehouse and walked across to them. They didn't quite point their rifles at the Americans, but they weren't quite pointing at the ground either.

"Colonel Richardson?" he asked the one at the front, who nodded. "You won't need the mask. We're clean."

"I'd like to believe you," came the crisp British accent, "but unfortunately we've heard that before. Why did you come here, in particular?"

"Lieutenant Green," he gestured at the man, "served on ops with some of your men in Afghanistan and we figured that your unit was most likely to still be viable."

The man faced Green, taking in his green fatigues vs their Navy blue ones. "SEAL?" he questioned. Green looked at Tom and he nodded. "Yes sir," replied the lieutenant.

"Who did you serve with?" asked the Colonel.

"Sergeant Mick Wright, Captain John Stephens and Lieutenant Steve Hodgkinson," he replied, "though I think Steve was invalided out."

"You're correct about Steve," replied the Colonel, obviously thinking. "You say you have a cure?" he asked, looking at Tom.

"Yes Colonel, we have a cure."

"OK, this is how it's going to work," said the Colonel. The man was totally deadpan with no sign of excitement at all. He wouldn't want to play poker against him. "You and your men will come in and stay in a holding area. Sergeant Wright is dead, but John was my 2IC. The problem is that he was infected with the virus on a sweep two days ago and is in our isolation area. If you genuinely believe in your cure you can go and help him and the other infected. But if you try anything, you're kaput." He pointed down at Tom's chest where there was a laser dot from a sniper's rifle. There were dots on all the others as well.

He looked at Green. "I'll go Captain," the man told him. He knew Green felt bad for leaving Rachel and losing his men. He thought this might just help the man recover some of his confidence. He nodded, and Green was escorted off in one direction while he and the rest of his men were taken to an area just inside the gate. A soldier in an NBC suit stood guard.

"I'll have some food brought out for your men Commander. Please don't try to come into the building or the base, or we will have to shoot you."

He nodded at the Colonel who turned and departed. Well, that had probably gone as well as it could. He was annoyed to lose time, but according to Rachel's notes the cure should start to work within two to three hours, so it would be worth it. He set about radioing to Slattery with an update.

* * *

"Sir," Burk's single word brought his head up from where he'd been dozing against the fence. A nondescript man in British army camouflage and wearing the distinctive sandy brown beret with winged dagger cap badge of the SAS was coming towards them.

"Commander Chandler," the man greeted him, holding out his hand for a shake, and he realised it was the Colonel.

"Colonel," he acknowledged, smiling inwardly and returning the handshake.

"Please excuse our caution Commander but, as I'm sure you can understand, there have been a lot of false dawns. Your man Green has filled us in on your adventures a bit and I'm delighted to put my unit at your disposal. We've also contacted higher and there's a lot of excitement, strangely enough! An SO is already on the way across to meet you. If you and your men would like to come into the camp and we can mutually inform each other about where we are and where we want to be?"

"That would be great, Colonel." He couldn't keep the smile off his face. _We're winning Rachel_ , he thought.

* * *

The de-briefing had gone very well, with the Senior Officer, a one-star general, arriving mid-way through. It turned out that Rachel had been right and that the sheer decentralisation of the UK's emergency response structure had worked in its favour. Colonel Richardson had told them that the British Armed Forces, like the American ones, had been decimated when the Government tried to use them for crowd control after the imposition of martial law, but command and control was still in place in several regions. Thankfully nobody had thought of using special forces for crowd control and hence his unit was largely intact. Its location, many miles from major population centres, and its elite training, had further helped it.

The one-star, Brigadier Roger Wilkins, had arrived with an official from the UK's Cabinet Office who was part of the civilian emergency management infrastructure. They were excited to hear about Rachel's cure and notes, and he had instructed the helo to return to Nathan James to bring them.

One fact that had not thrilled him was that they had warned him to keep his ship at a high degree of readiness. They had suffered similar attacks on laboratories in the UK to those that he had heard about in the US and they had intelligence that a group with immunity to the virus was attacking labs. Wilkins described what seemed like a missile strike at the UK's premier military biological research facility at Porton Down. A number of pre-eminent British virologists had been killed in attacks and a significant amount of infrastructure destroyed. Britain's remaining labs had been split up and spread around in secret locations as a result.

They had set up a council of war via a conference call with key armed forces, civilian and scientific teams. The council of war had agreed that work would begin immediately on producing and distributing Rachel's cure and Tom had passed on Rachel's conclusion about the need for critical mass which the civil servant, David Richards, had immediately christened "The Scott Effect". Tom had also raised Rachel's idea about distributing the virus around the world by plane. Richards had tasked an RAF Group Captain with looking into that and actioning it as soon as possible.

Midway through the meeting, the helo had arrived from Nathan James and Ethan had hand-delivered a package for him. Opening it he had handed over the cure (in a cold pouch) and a copy of Rachel's notes (they had kept several back-ups on board the ship) to Brigadier Wilkins. The man had looked at the vial reverently before handing it to a Major. "Get that and these notes to Rhydymwyn. Protect it with your life."

The man had taken the bag no less reverently, nodded to Chandler, and left with an escort of four SAS troopers.

Finally, Tom had broached the point about returning to rescue Rachel. The British soldiers had shared a look and the Colonel asked, "would you accept help from the British armed forces with that mission, Commander?" Given that there were over 700 Russians on that ship and he only had 15 boarders, that was a no-brainer. He had agreed, and Brigadier Wilkins had turned to Colonel Richardson and told him, "Colonel, you are ordered to provide any and all resources in your power to assist Commander Chandler in his mission to rescue Dr Rachel Scott."

The Colonel's smile had been almost feral. "Thank you sir. It will be our pleasure."

* * *

 _A/N1 Rhydymwyn (don't ask me to pronounce it!) in north Wales was a site of mustard gas production during World War 2. It is still a protected area and, as well as having several buildings on site which could be used as laboratories, it also has a protected tunnel system underneath a hill which would make it extremely secure._

 _A/N2 Glossary of British military terms: 2IC – Second in Command; SO – Senior Officer; Group Captain is an RAF rank equivalent to OF-5 Nato or Colonel in US vernacular._

 _A/N3 Note this is the beginning of December 2014. By my estimates, based on the original timeline, they only started to distribute the cure in Baltimore/Norfolk at the beginning of January 2015 and in St Louis in February. International distribution would presumably have taken place much later still. Hence why there is more infrastructure in place and more people still alive than in canon._


	13. Nathan James: Interlude 2

_I do not own The Last Ship_

 **Interlude**

 **30 November 2014**

"Crew's assembled Captain," Russ told him, looking through the door of the hangar into what had been the virologists' working area. _And it will be again_ , he told himself. _We **will** get her out of there_.

He had been staring at the laboratory, trying to imagine Rachel working here. It wasn't the best preparation for the speech he was about to give the crew, but it had helped him get some things together in his own mind.

He followed Russ out onto the flight deck where the off-watch crew was assembled. There were some glum faces there, as there had been when he'd come back aboard the ship. Soon they would be happier, more focused. He hoped.

"Ship's Company. Atten-shun!" called the Master Chief, and the crew all braced to attention as Russ saluted him. He nodded to the Master Chief and then told the crew to stand at ease. _Show time_.

"I know that many of you were hoping that we would be able to return from the Vyerni with Doctor Scott. I was too.

"If you remember those few months ago when I stood in front of you and told you the background to what had happened in the Arctic, I told you that our new mission was to liberate Doctor Scott and ensure that she was able to produce a vaccine or cure for the red flu.

"It's felt at times like it's been years since that first briefing two months ago, but I can tell you now that half of our orders have been accomplished!" he paused as the crew looked at each other. _Probably wondering if the Old Man's gone nuts_ , he thought to himself.

"Because Dr Scott didn't wait for us to rescue her. She went on with her work, despite the hardship she had to endure as a prisoner. The Russians kidnapped her, after all, to develop a cure. And she _HAS_. But she has not told the Russians that she has. And while I returned from Vyerni without Doctor Scott, I did NOT return without the Cure."

He paused again as even naval discipline couldn't keep people from talking. He waited for the noise to peter out, which it did quickly.

"Despite the hardships that she has endured on the Vyerni, like us Doctor Scott has never lost sight of the importance of our primary mission. And knowing the restrictions that she was operating under, Doctor Scott has gone one better than developing a cure. She has developed a cure that is contagious and can be passed by human contact.

"In fact she has cured me and I have cured five other people aboard Nathan James and, after this meeting, we will all cure you. I also have Doctor Scott's notes and a vial of the cure that can be reproduced, if we manage to find a functional manufacturing facility." Again, the sound of exultant voices threatened to drown him out.

Raising his voice, he started again, "But there is a problem." That shut them up. "Actually, more of a limitation. We are only contagious for five days." He let that sink it. "That is not enough time to get back to the United States in time to transmit the cure. Doctor Scott has therefore requested that we go to the United Kingdom, and that is where we are headed now at full speed. Doctor Scott believes that elements of the UK military are still functional and that, if we can make contact to them, they can arrange for the cure to start to be spread by air. They can get the cure to the US a long time before we can.

"Now, from what I have said, you will have worked out that I spoke to Doctor Scott on the Vyerni. I'm sure that many of you are wondering why she did not return with me?" He could see nods and questioning looks.

"Doctor Scott tried to escape with the cure. She was re-captured by the Russians and badly tortured. They used a hammer on her legs to make sure she didn't try to escape again." He saw the winces as he described her treatment. _Believe me, seeing it was a lot worse_.

"Doctor Scott insisted that our first priority be the dissemination of the cure. And I agreed. But I also told her something that you all know. The United States Navy never leaves anyone behind. And we _will_ return for her!" He paused again as calls of "Hell Yeah!" echoed around the flight deck. "Thank you," he told them, touched by their support and agreement.

"We should reach the UK within eight hours. I will take a team on shore and try and make contact with the British. The XO will see to refuelling and re-provisioning. I want to be ready to leave again as soon as possible. Doctor Scott has had a rough time and I don't know how much longer she can hold out. She's done her bit. Now it's time for us to do ours."

They cheered him, bringing him close to tears, but he hid it as much as possible. It wouldn't do for the Captain to lose his rag. _I didn't do this, Rachel did. I wish she could be here to see it._

For the first time in months his crew looked enthused and focused. As he passed among them, shaking hands and passing on the contagious cure, answering questions and discussing his plans, he felt genuinely positive for the first time in a long time.

 _We can do this. With this crew, I can do anything._

* * *

 _A/N I wrote this early on but it didn't quite fit in anywhere so I've put it in as a separate bonus! Thanks for the reviews. Next chapter is the rescue!_


	14. Nathan James: Chapter 5

_I do not own The Last Ship._

 **Part 2: Chapter 5**

 **3 December 2014**

Tom Chandler was back on the Vyerni. But this time there was no sneaking; he was loaded for bear. It had taken them a bit longer than he had wanted to get everything turned around and by the time they'd loaded the special forces teams and got the Nathan James back into position to launch the boats to board the Vyerni, they would have had to go in daylight and that would have been stupid. In the mean-time, the Vyerni had left Brest and was now moving north through the English Channel, which had required some rejigging to get Nathan James into position to launch the boats to intercept, but actually made it easier to sneak on board, since there had been fewer sentries once the ship was underway, compared to when it had been moored.

They had had to wait until night fell and that hadn't been made easier by a call from "Boris" earlier this evening. "Yevgeni, please hurry," the Russian had said, "I don't know how much longer she can last." They hadn't replied, because they hadn't wanted to tip anyone off who was monitoring the channel, but the call had definitely added a certain urgency to their preparations.

And now here they were. There were four teams on board, each with different objectives. To their existing boarding teams they had added 12 special ops soldiers and marines from the SAS and SBS including a female Royal Navy medic and combat medical technician who were with him now, and who would take care of Rachel on the Vyerni. The British had also assigned an Emergency Doctor and Nurse who would evaluate Rachel once she reached Nathan James; they were currently waiting on his ship. There were eight, plus him, in their party; two medics, two assigned to carry Rachel's stretcher, and four for close protection.

The three other teams were strike teams, targeted at causing as much confusion and taking out as many officers, naval infantryman and seamen as possible. They would target the Bridge, Engineering and the Naval Infantry's mess decks. They were carrying demolition charges which they would place to incapacitate, and hopefully sink, the battlecruiser.

He was monitoring two radios, and suddenly a message came from the Russian, "Yevgeni, I see you are here. Please hurry, I will run interference for you. Same place."

Either they were made, or they were sorted. He still wasn't sure about the Russian, but everything had checked out so far. His gut told him to trust the man but he was still wary, and too much depended on this to trust him blindly. Their team had just arrived outside the room that he had found Rachel in last time, so fingers crossed. There had been no guard outside so that could mean that either someone was inside with Rachel, or that she wasn't there any longer, or that the Russians were just being lax. He signalled to Captain Stephens who gestured to two of his men. He was about to interfere and say his men would handle it when Green stopped him.

"You should let them do it Captain," the man whispered to him, "these guys are the elite in hostage operations. They practice with live ammunition. The officer sits in a room and the team goes in and takes out the targets all around him." He looked askance at the Lieutenant. "The Lieutenant is correct," the RN medic, Claire Gardner, told him in a low voice, "they're the dog's bollocks at this!" He signalled the Captain to go ahead, just as a high-pitched scream of pure agony came from the room as well as shouting in Russian. There were sharp intakes of breath from all of them.

"All units, Vulture team is ready," he whispered on the radio, "all units – execute."

The SAS troopers wasted no time, crashing open the door, throwing in a stun grenade and stepping through. Four bursts of two shots came from their machine pistols. Chandler followed them through the door to a scene from Hell. Rachel hung from her wrists from a chain in the centre of the room looking, if possible, worse than the last time he'd seen her. The room was dimly lit but it was possible to see all the weals, cuts, bruises and burns on her naked body. Her head was slumped forward as though it was too heavy for her to support it. Four bodies lay on the floor, one carrying what looked like a cattle prod.

"Get her down from there," he ordered urgently, closing the distance to her. The two medics had put down their bags and guns and were grabbing their equipment, while the rest of his team stayed outside the room in defensive positions. The medics quickly laid an aluminium blanket on the floor and then a cotton blanket on top of that. The SAS troopers were working to lower the chain.

"We're here Rachel," he told her, gently touching her shoulder, "you're going to be OK."

"Captain?" her voice was hoarse, thready and pain-filled. She tried to lift her head but was too weak.

"Yes," he replied quietly, trying not to show how much her condition affected him, "Claire and Nicky are going to take care of you and then we're going to get you back to Nathan James." He reached out to raise her head as gently as possible, seeing the desperate hope in her pain-filled eyes. He kept his eyes focused on hers as he tried to blot out the rest of the room. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face bruised and bloodied and her mouth was clenched in pain.

"Lower her," ordered Nicky, "someone support her legs," and one of the SAS troopers went to support her injured legs and place them gently on the blanket. The other had procured the handcuff keys from somewhere and uncuffed her hands, as carefully as possible so as not to cause her pain. Tom gently supported her body against his and lowered her onto the blanket.

"OK, everyone out!" ordered Nicky. He looked at the medic, "Don't worry Captain, we'll take care of her. We'll tell you when we're ready to move." She told him.

He stepped outside the room, never so happy to be out of a room in his life. Green was pale beside him. He put his hand on the man's arm, "I know Lieutenant, but we need to focus."

"Aye sir," the man told him, and he knew he was thinking about leaving her in the Arctic. Green hadn't seen her last time and he hadn't gone out of his way to describe her injuries to the man, knowing how bad he felt already about leaving her behind. They assumed defensive positions in the corridor.

He could hear the medics talking behind him.

"Rachel, my name is Nicky. We're going to take care of you. We're going to give you some ketamine to knock you out so it's not painful when we move you, OK?"

Rachel must have said something because she answered.

"Yes, we're British, and we're going to take good care of you."

A pause and then Claire reported, "Yep she's out. Conducting primary survey."

Not wanting to hear about her injuries, he called. "All units, report. Vulture team has achieved objective."

"Cobra team, objective secured."

"Tiger team, secured."

"Eagle team, secured."

Cobra team, under the command of Captain Alun Williams, had been assaulting the Bridge. He called them now, "Cobra, please confirm you got the Admiral."

"Confirmed, Vulture. And the Captain." Brilliant. That meant Ruskov was dead which should help to keep the Russian response uncoordinated.

He sent "All units proceed to secondary objectives." Cobra would now start to secure their Exfil supported by Tiger, while Eagle focused on laying demolition charges. Suddenly his other radio crackled.

"Yevgeni, this is Boris."

"Acknowledged Boris," he stated.

"I'm on my way to join you, please don't shoot me."

"Confirmed Boris," he replied, "make it slow, give us plenty of warning and keep those hands up."

"Acknowledged," came the reply as the first explosion cut through the ship. It was to the front of the vessel; the plan being to keep the crew occupied at the front of the ship, so they could exfil at the rear.

"Captain," came the call from behind him. He moved back into the room. Rachel's body was now fully covered up by a blanket and she had been moved to a stretcher. Only her face was exposed, still looking bruised and bloody. Nicky was just tying off a few straps that secured her to the stretcher while Claire was packing up their equipment.

"How is she?" he asked.

"Suspected fractured cheekbone, broken ribs, compound fracture of the right leg, contusions, bruises, electrical burns, dehydration and malnourishment, Captain," reported Claire, "Sick bastards!" she spat, "we've given her ketamine to keep her under for the transfer and she's on an IV drip. The leg's the worst. Once we've stabilised her on Nathan James, we'll need to CASEVAC to the UK as a matter of urgency," she told him, "we're just finishing up here and should be ready to go in two minutes."

"Acknowledged," he told her grimly, just as another message came on the radio, "Yevgeni, I'm coming to your position now."

"Vulture units, friendly approaching. Repeat friendly approaching. Do not fire." He ran out of the room as the naval infantry officer from last time came around the bend in the corridor, with his hands aloft.

"Approach slowly," shouted Green, "keep those hands up."

When the man was just three metres from their position they told him to halt. "Identify yourself."

"I am Lieutenant Artur Dmitrievich Voronov, Russian Federation Naval Infantry, sometimes known as Boris," he replied.

"On the ground," shouted Green. The man lay down and two of Vulture team moved over to check him for weapons and IEDs. All he had was a large format photo, showing a woman and young child. "Clear!" they called.

"Captain," called Claire from inside, "Ready to go."

"OK," called Tom, "Stephens – you're in charge of our guest. Miller, Cruz – you've got stretcher duty for the first shift. Green, Smith, Waites, Gardner and I are on close protection and Corporal Hopkins, you're monitoring Rachel." He paused, "all good?" there were no objections, "let's go."

"All units, this is Vulture team, we are commencing exfil with the package."

* * *

 **4 December 2014**

"Nathan James. Arriving." This time there was no denying that there was a greater number of idlers on deck than normal. Almost 70 crew members were waiting for them, which was a pretty impressive turnout given the frigidity of the weather.

He braced to attention and returned Mike's salute as members of his party came up behind him, making arrangements to haul Rachel's stretcher up the side. As her stretcher came over the railings, the Master Chief ran over with three men to help take the ropes off. CPO Gardner was already crouched down next to it, checking Rachel's condition. Hopkins had stayed with the rest of the team to help with a couple of injuries.

Two men hoisted the stretcher and set off for sick bay, Gardner walking alongside with the IV bag. He fell in behind the stretcher. There were gasps of shock as they approached and everybody started to see the state of Rachel's face and arms. The crew quickly made a tunnel, allowing the stretcher bearers to progress. As they started to move between the crew members, Lieutenant Chung reached out and touched the stretcher. A gesture of support? Of togetherness? Of thanks? Who knew? Then everybody was doing it. He caught the man's eye as he went past and was surprised to see tears in his eyes. He gave him a quick nod and a half smile and then he followed the procession into the superstructure.

* * *

"We're going to need to CASEVAC her to the UK, Captain." Lieutenant Colonel Richard Symes was the Emergency Doctor provided by the British. A senior consultant in emergency medicine at a major London hospital, he had deployed to Afghanistan three times. The British had sent their best to take care of Rachel. "It's the leg that's the problem. There are three separate breaks and there are lots of bone fragments. There's a high risk of infection. If we can operate as soon as possible we should be able to sort it out, but if it gets infected we'll have to amputate it."

"Our helo can be ready for launch in 15 minutes, Doctor. Just tell us where to go and we're ready." He hadn't even had a shower yet, but after debriefing Mike (and getting debriefed) he had headed down to sickbay to get an update.

"Portsmouth is best for us Captain. We're gearing up the MDHU there with the team from 22 Field Hospital. They'll have a full surgical team on duty."

"OK Doctor, I'll tell the XO to get the helo ready. Is she conscious?" he asked.

"No, sir. We'll keep her under now until after we've operated. But if you want to see her, that's fine," replied the doctor, smiling at him supportively.

He nodded, and the doctor led him into the sickbay. There Rachel lay on the stretcher. They'd put a hospital robe over her and from under it sprung loads of monitoring equipment; a heart rate and pulse monitor, temperature monitor, various heart monitoring leads. The emergency nurse, who had been introduced to him as Wing Commander Carol Simmonds, was adjusting her blood pressure monitor. Doc Rios, who would have been assisting, was on the mess deck, which had been set up as an additional receiving area for wounded when the call had come in that injuries had been sustained in the attack. From what he had heard, the injuries weren't life-threatening. He hoped not. For obvious reasons his RHIB had had priority for boarding Nathan James.

Although she was fully covered so he couldn't see the damage to her torso and legs, the lighting in the sick bay threw her other injuries into stark contrast. Her wrists were covered in bloody bandages and her face had a collection of yellow, blue and purple bruises suggesting that she had been beaten over a period of time. Her left eye was swollen, her nose looked broken and her eyes had huge black bags under them making her look like she hadn't slept for ages. And she looked thin and very pale.

He was glad Ruskov and the men who did this to her were dead, otherwise he wasn't sure he would have been able to control himself. He felt very protective of her. He hardly knew the woman but from reading her journals he'd felt like he did. And she was a good person. The type of person he would be happy to call a friend, despite their shaky start. He hoped the Brits could put her back together but he knew enough to know that after this kind of ordeal it wouldn't only be physical help she needed; mental support would be just as important.

"Can I touch her?" he asked the doctor.

"Of course, Captain," he replied.

He grasped her hand gently. "God speed Rachel," he told her, "see you soon."

Then he let her go, nodded at the doctor and left to find Mike to arrange her transport home.

* * *

"Danny, are you OK?" it was clear he wasn't. She'd looked everywhere for him in the last hour since she'd come off duty. Tex said he wasn't in their cabin, he wasn't in the wardroom, the gym, on deck with Halsey, or any one of the three to four other hidey holes they often met in up and down the Nathan James. This was to be her last stop before she went to the XO, and thankfully he was here.

This was a machinery room hidden away off a corridor on the lower deck. They'd met many times here over the months for chaste and not so chaste kisses, gropes and notably once for amazing oral sex. Over the past few months it had been more for hugs and conversation as Danny struggled to deal with what he perceived as his professional failures.

She'd thought that he'd be happy. It had been touch and go for a while over the past week. After the Captain had told Danny that Doctor Scott had been tortured, she'd been really worried about him. It had almost taken her back to how he was after the death of his team and Dr Scott's kidnapping. It had taken her weeks to put him back together after that. But things had moved quickly and he'd been deployed on the team to make contact with the UK military. That meant that they hadn't had any alone-time except when she'd seen him in passing and around the ship but he had seemed to be better.

And then this morning had come the successful rescue. They'd returned with the Doctor and, even though she'd reportedly been in bad shape, the Docs said her prognosis was good. She'd immediately been CASEVACed to Portsmouth and that's where they were heading. The Russian ship was at the bottom of the English Channel, her crew dead or landed in France and as for Nathan James, after that quick stop in Portsmouth, the Captain had told them that they'd be heading to Norfolk to find their families.

She'd thought Danny would be as excited as she was to be heading home but she'd found him down here, sat on the deck in the corner of the room, head in his hands. And more than that, he was CRYING.

There was no answer to her first question, so she repeated, "Danny?"

He didn't look up. "I failed her Kara. I was supposed to protect her, and I failed her."

There was no doubting who "her" was. While Danny had been gutted about the deaths of his team, he'd lost team members before. They'd all lost people they served with. But Danny had never failed in a mission he was commanding before Rachel Scott's kidnap and he had really struggled with what he perceived as that failure.

She went to sit next to him and clasped his hand. "You didn't honey. You did all you could and she ordered you to leave her." She paused, "What's brought this on Danny?"

He looked up at her then and she almost flinched away from the pain and anger in his eyes. "They tortured her Kara," he flinched, "they beat her with fists and sticks and they tortured her with a cattle prod," Kara felt sick, "A woman who only wanted to help, a scientist working on a cure for humanity. How could they?"

"Oh God."

"It was horrible Kara," he looked at her, but his eyes didn't see her, "she was strung up by her wrists in the middle of the room, covered in bleeding cuts and bruises and burns."

"I'm sorry Danny," it occurred to Kara that she was apologising to the wrong person, but she really didn't know what to say. She had seen Doctor Scott around the ship before her kidnap but hadn't really spoken to the woman. She knew she'd blanked her when she saw her in the corridor on the second day of the mission extension because she was just so pissed.

"I left her there Kara. I let them do that to her. It's _my fault_." He turned away.

She reached up and yanked Danny's face round so she could look in his eyes, "It totally isn't Danny," she told him fiercely, "you didn't leave her. She ORDERED you to leave. And based on the information you both had at the time, it was the right decision. You must stop blaming yourself for this. I'm sure she doesn't blame you. What was the last thing she said to you?"

She knew very well, because he'd told her and she'd thought that it was good of the Doctor to try and lift his spirits. "She told me to make sure she got her tea when she got back."

"So, I suggest that when the Doctor comes back aboard, whether that's now or at Norfolk, you have a cup of tea waiting for her and you take the time to have a chat with Doctor Scott, because I'm sure she will tell you she doesn't blame you for what happened." She wasn't sure this strategy would work on Danny but an experienced master chief once told her that looking forward was much better than looking back, and it had always worked for her. She hoped it would for Danny as well.

* * *

 _A/N Glossary of British military terms: SBS – Special Boat Service: an elite special forces unit focusing on maritime counter terrorism, a sister unit of the SAS; CASEVAC – Casualty Evacuation; CPO – Chief Petty Officer – a senior non-commissioned rank in the Royal Navy; Wing Commander – An RAF officer designation equivalent to OF4 Nato or Lieutenant Colonel US; MDHU – Ministry of Defence Hospital Unit: a military healthcare facility embedded within a civilian hospital._


	15. Nathan James: Chapter 6

_I do not own The Last Ship._

 **Part 2: Chapter 6**

 **5 December 2014**

Consciousness came slowly for her and she wasn't sure where she was. She didn't hurt so much any more, which was an improvement, and was that the steady beep of a heart rate monitor? She kept her eyes shut as she became more awake. She couldn't feel the motion of the ship. Could she be on land?

"Good morning, Doctor Scott. How are you this morning?" The voice was female, British, and it was cheerful. She opened her eyes.

She was in a hospital room. On land. She was definitely on land. It was daylight, there were buildings outside, and they weren't moving. There was a woman by the side of the bed; medium height, shoulder length dirty blond hair and blue surgical scrubs. She had an IV line in her left arm, which the woman was adjusting, and a blood pressure monitor on her other arm.

"Where am I?" she asked. At least that was her intention. It came out as a hoarse croak. Her throat felt like sandpaper. The woman immediately moved round the bed and reached over her shoulder. She flinched, but the woman smiled reassuringly and moved her hands in front of her to show a glass of water with a straw in it. She raised the straw towards Rachel's mouth allowing her to take a small sip.

"You're in the Emergency Department at the Queen Alexandra Hospital in Portsmouth, Doctor," explained the woman, "I'm Emma Christenson," and indeed she could see the woman was wearing a name badge that said, "Major Emma Christenson, Senior Nursing Sister, Critical Care".

She couldn't stop the tears of relief coming to her eyes, "England," she gasped.

The woman, Emma, nodded at her, "Yes Doctor, you're home now." She moved the straw up to Rachel's mouth again, motioning her to take a sip.

She wasn't sure if she should tell Emma that Britain hadn't been her home for over 10 years, but there were other things that it was more important to know now. "How long?" she croaked.

"You've been here just under 24 hours, Doctor," Emma told her, "you were CASEVACed off Nathan James yesterday morning and they rescued you from the Vyerni during the night."

She flinched at the name, "The Vyerni?"

The woman smiled at her reassuringly, offering another sip of water, "Sunk, Doctor."

A flash of worry shot through her, "And Nathan James?" The water was helping; she no longer sounded so much like a child molester although her throat still hurt. _Probably the screaming_ , she thought, but then tried to move that thought to the back of her mind. _I'm here and I'm free. I don't want to focus on the past. I need to think about now,_ she told herself.

"On her way here. In fact, she should be arriving this morning. May even be here already. I'm sure Captain Chandler will be here to see you later in the day. They're not staying long. I think they want to leave for the US as soon as possible. Can't blame them really."

"Thank you," she told the woman. She couldn't blame them either. That they had spent time away from their country and their loved ones during Armageddon to come and rescue her meant so much to her. Probably more than she could ever tell them. Now, if they could just take her back with them...

"No, actually thank _you_ , Doctor Scott. Without you we wouldn't be here. My husband would be dead. I can never repay you for that," Emma squeezed her hand gently. She had tears in her eyes.

Rachel was a bit flabbergasted, the conversation coming back into focus with a thud, "Your husband?" she asked.

"He was infected three days ago. We had a security breach in the compound. He would be dead by now, but when Captain Chandler made contact, we were able to start pushing the contagious cure around military units and population centres. It got to him in time. I can never thank you enough."

"Has critical mass been reached in the UK?" she asked.

"Critical mass?" asked Emma, puzzled.

"Yes, over 2,000 people in a population group."

"Oh! I've not heard it called that before," exclaimed Emma, lips twitching, "yes, it has and we're starting relief flights to other parts of the world."

"Thank God," maybe it had all been worth it. "is there an update on the virus' impact?"

Emma gave her an old-fashioned look. "There may very well be Doctor, but you are still a patient here and you've only just woken up. And you have another operation ahead of you today, so I'd like you to drink your water and I'll go and get your surgeon to talk to you about your treatment."

* * *

"Welcome to Portsmouth, Captain Chandler. Good to see you." The speaker was none other than Lieutenant Colonel Mark Richardson who was waiting for him at the slip, an SUV with a uniformed driver behind him. They had made good time to Portsmouth after staying behind to make sure that the Vyerni genuinely did sink and that survivors were landed in France, but the channel to the harbour, the Royal Navy's primary base and a major port in its own right, was full of wrecks and they'd had to embark a pilot and pick their way between the wrecks at slow speed.

However, they were here now. He had been asked to come on shore for a briefing and was assured that his ship would be refuelled and re-armed and the wounded taken off. He had already taken the opportunity to say goodbye to and thank the British special operations and medical teams who would be disembarking here. They were badly needed in the UK. The Russian, Voronov, was also leaving them and he was pleased. While, from his debriefing of Voronov, he knew that the man had done right by Rachel as well as he could, he couldn't help but think he could have done better.

He was a bit surprised to see the British officer waiting for him, but pleased nevertheless. When they had met before they had got on well after the initial frostiness of the reception, which he could well understand. "And to see you Colonel, although I distinctly remember asking you to call me Tom!" They were the same rank after all.

"You're right, and I'm still Mark, of course," the man replied. "You're in a bit earlier than we expected and I believe that Dr Scott is conscious and between operations, so I wondered if you would like to go up to the hospital before the briefing?"

"I'd like that," he told the man.

"Good, I'm dying to meet her. Hop in and let's go."

* * *

She was sitting up in bed when they arrived, a book propped on a rest in front of her, and looking better. Her face was still covered with fading bruises and bandages covered her wrists, but she was less pale and her eyes were brighter. A box covered her right leg, holding the bed covers away from her leg wounds.

"Doctor Scott, you have some visitors," a nurse told her.

Her face broke out into a broad smile when she saw him.

"Captain Chandler." Her voice was stronger. Still with a hoarseness to it, but much stronger. "It's good to see you."

"And you, Doctor," he told her, meaning it, "this is Lieutenant Colonel Mark Richardson. It was his unit we made contact with in the UK."

Her eyebrows rose, "SAS? You certainly know how to pick your allies Captain." Not many people would know that the tan beret was SAS. How had she? His surprise must have shown.

She took pity on him, "I worked with Doctors Without Borders in many less salubrious parts of Africa and the Middle East Captain, I've met a few special forces soldiers in my time."

Mark also seemed surprised by her knowledge, but he walked up to the bed and gently shook her hand, "I just wanted to meet and thank you Doctor Scott. I'll leave you with Commander Chandler now. I'm sure you have a lot to talk about," he turned to Tom and told him, "I'll wait outside Tom. We need to leave in 20 minutes."

He acknowledged Mark and walked over to sit in a chair beside her bed. "I'm pleased to see you looking better Doctor."

She looked at him with tears in her eyes, "I- I can't thank you enough for coming back for me Captain."

He shook his head, "I was never going to leave you there, Doctor."

She snuffled, "I- it's just when you're there…" she teared up and couldn't go on, and visibly changed what she was going to say. She smiled at him in a fragile way, "You know Captain, I was going to say… since you've held my broken body in your arms...I think you could call me Rachel now."

He stared into her teary eyes, which stared back at him. He could feel the strength of the message that she was trying to communicate to him. He could feel the tears in his own eyes. "It would be my honor Rachel. And I would be very honored if you would call me Tom."

She swallowed thickly. "Of course…Tom." She looked away, overcome by her emotions. "Would you like a tea Tom? I'm sure they could rustle something up…"

"No, no thanks Rachel, I have to go soon."

"So maybe it's tea you don't like and not me?" Her observation was wry.

"What?" he was confused.

"When we rowed in the p-way on Nathan James you told me you'd take a rain-check on tea," she observed, looking at him with a hint of humour.

"Ah. Uh," he stuttered, "I'm not really a tea drinker…" he tried. _Way to go Tom_ , he thought, realising his answer could be taken both ways, "but in that instance I was a bit pissed with you."

"Oh, really Captain?" she observed, raising an eyebrow at him, "I hadn't noticed."

"Back to Captain are we?" it was the only thing he could think to say.

"For taking the piss, definitely!" she told him, grinning. He couldn't help but grin back.

"I would be careful if I were you _Doctor_ ," he emphasised her title, "because two can play at that game!"

"Oh, I look forward to it, Captain," she told him. They both smiled at one another. _Maybe this is the start of a new relationship between us?_ he thought. _It would be nice to have a friend outside the chain of command_. But then he felt sad. Because this was probably "Goodbye". She would be staying here, and he might not see her again for years.

"Are you OK Tom?" she prompted, and he saw so much empathy in her brown eyes. _Amazing_ , he thought. _Here is a woman that's survived a horrendous ordeal and now_ _ **she's**_ _worried about_ _ **me**_ _._

He looked at her, deciding to tell her how he felt, "I was just reflecting how nice it is to have someone teasing me, and thinking that this could be the start of a new friendship for us. I have to be totally aloof on the ship and there's no-one I can really talk to like this, and can talk to me. And it's doubly worse on this voyage because I've had no contact with my wife or family who would otherwise keep me in line." He smiled sadly, _Dad would be taking the piss out of me no end_ , "And then I thought that it didn't matter because you'll be staying here, and it could be ages until I see you again."

 _Her eyes are amazing_ , he thought. As he spoke, her eyes had changed from humorous to warm to empathic to sad in seconds. Now, if he didn't know better, he would say they looked hopeful. She looked down.

"Ah, this is something I had wanted to talk to you about, Captain," she said.

"Tom," he reminded her.

She looked up, "Tom. Ah, if I could digress for a moment?" she looked at him in a hopeful way, and he nodded, "When I woke up here this morning the nurse said, "Welcome home"." She paused, "but the problem is, I don't really think of Britain as my home. I've never really put down roots anywhere. I move a lot in my job. I'm sure you understand what that feels like?" she looked at him hopefully.

"I do." He nodded, wondering where she was going with this.

"For the last 10 years the US has been my home. I'm a permanent resident, a Green Card holder." He looked up at her sharply.

"So, I was wondering," she looked at him nervously, then away, "whether it would be possible for me to come back aboard Nathan James?"

He stared at her in surprise. Misinterpreting his silence, she rambled on, "There's going to be lots to do in the US. It's a much bigger country than the UK with a bigger population. I feel that I can contribute a lot to the rebuilding and I think I owe it to my colleagues to re-establish the CDC and carry on with our work." She finished, looking at him hopefully.

"So, let me get this straight?" he questioned, "having just endured horrific conditions for two months and invented the cure to a global pandemic, you're _begging_ me to take you to the US so that you can help rebuild our country?!" he goggled at her.

"Yes?" she replied in a small voice. _Could she **honestly** think he would refuse?_ He would do anything for this woman and he didn't think there were too many people in the world that would refuse a request from her right about now. The British were going to be pissed though. He'd have to handle that carefully.

"I think I could agree to that. In this instance," he told her, smiling, "BUT! There will be conditions." He told her, looking at her sternly. "You _will_ go through a proper recovery period on the trip home and you _will_ make proper time for physical and mental rehabilitation." She started to object, and he held up his finger, "Don't forget, I've worked with you before. 20-hour days are not acceptable unless you're saving the world. If you're just rebuilding it, not an hour over twelve!" he joked.

She smiled at him, "Aye aye, Captain!" she told him facetiously, "and the good news is I can fulfil my secondary role of taking the piss out of you as well." She told him, humorously.

"That's something to look forward to," he observed, deadpan.

"So, I believe you're leaving this afternoon Tom?" she asked.

"Yes, that's the plan."

"I need one more operation this afternoon on my leg. I don't want to delay you so I asked and Commander Wilkins told me that I could catch you up in a helicopter tomorrow if you were game?"

His eyebrows went up, "You researched this?"

"I thought you'd remember Captain. Prior planning prevents-"

"piss poor performance. Yes, I know Doctor," he smiled. He couldn't believe she had researched and planned out this conversation, "I'm going to have to keep an eye on you aren't I?"

"It's good to be kept on your toes." She gave him such a shit-eating grin that he could only laugh. This woman was going to be the death of him.

There was a quiet knock on the door and he looked at his watch and smiled at her. "Well Rachel, I must be going. But I'm glad this isn't goodbye. Just farewell. I will speak to – whoever's in charge," he had no idea. "Until tomorrow."

She smiled at him tiredly, and suddenly he could see the stress on her face and how much maintaining the façade of normality had cost her. "Thank you, Tom. I really appreciate it," she told him quietly.

"You don't have to thank me Rachel. We all owe you a debt that can never be repaid."

She stared at him and he could see tears in her eyes again. "You have no debt to repay Tom Chandler. _I_ owe _you_. I didn't think I'd ever get off that ship alive."

He pushed the chair aside and crouched down beside her, grasping her hand gently, wanting to reassure her. "Maybe we can agree to disagree then, but you also might want to thank Lieutenant Voronov. We wouldn't have found you again without him."

Her eyebrows shot up at this, "Artur? What did he do?"

"He didn't like the way they were treating you. He obviously didn't know you were so close to a cure, but he found a way to send us a signal so we could track you. Then the other night he scrambled their response so they were running round like chickens with their heads cut off. It's why we were able to get in and out so easily."

She shook her head. "I never knew. He brought me some painkillers the first time…"

"The first time what?" he asked shortly. _Surely not?_

She looked down. "The first time I upset Ruskov. They whipped me with a rubber hose."

"Oh my God." She was so matter of fact about it. He felt so awful. He had joined the Navy to protect people like her and she had been treated like this on his watch, "I'm so sorry Rachel."

She looked at him sadly, "Again, you have nothing to be sorry for Thomas Chandler. I told Lieutenant Green to leave me and take the samples and it was the right decision at the time. You didn't make that decision. I did. You didn't order me whipped. Ruskov did. You did everything you could to find me and I can't thank you enough that you and your crew left your families behind to find me and save me, despite everything that was going on. I'll always be grateful."

When she finished there were tears in both their eyes and she was holding his hand tightly. There was another knock at the door.

"If we need to, we can carry on this conversation tomorrow Tom. You're needed. You should go now."

He smiled at her wetly. He didn't want to leave but she was right. He consoled himself with the fact that he would see her soon. "Aye aye Doctor." He told her, releasing her hand, and sketching a facetious salute. He nodded at her and turned away, reaching up to dry his eyes. "See you soon Rachel," he told her as he left.

* * *

Later that afternoon as Nathan James cleared The Solent and the Isle of Wight, turned to the Southwest and accelerated, he thought about the day with fresh hope for the future.

At the briefing the British had told him that the first virus-relief flights had left. The British labs were churning out the Cure and indeed 500 units had been loaded onto Nathan James before their departure, as well as some encrypted communications equipment so that they could keep in touch with virus relief operations in a secure way. This was important because it had become clear as communications started to be re-established that the problem with the Immune cult was larger than previously expected and they may very well have access to a warship, which they had used to launch missile strikes on labs.

The RAF had a limited number of transport aircraft, but in a fantastic display of thinking outside the box they had simply decided to use civilian aircraft. Group Captain Daniels had informed the briefing that while the RAF might only have access to five aircraft there were currently over 200 British Airways aircraft of various sizes at Heathrow Airport, only 65 miles from Portsmouth, which was being set up as the UK's base of operations. They had simply been commandeered for the greater good. So far four flights had taken off, one to the US and three to European cities.

Brigadier Wilkins had told him that they were only launching planes to places where they had already made contact with people on the ground. They needed to know that runways were clear to safely land an aircraft. With a limited human resource of pilots they couldn't take a chance that a plane might not return. He apologised that there had been no contact with Norfolk or any city on the US East Coast but stated that a plane had taken off for Minneapolis that morning and a bit later they had also made contact with Chicago. A flight was taking off tomorrow with supplies.

The Brigadier had been sorry to hear that Doctor Scott wanted to return to the US but had promised to organise it. As the briefing drew to a close and they stood to shake hands the Brigadier had thanked him for everything he and his crew had done, wishing them good luck and Godspeed. He had apologised for the lack of formal ceremony but had promised that the next time Nathan James made port in the UK they would make up for it.

The Brigadier hadn't quite been truthful. As Nathan James had sailed past Fort Blockhouse at the mouth of Portsmouth Harbour that afternoon a single gun had fired and the union flag above the fort had been dipped in salute. Tom had been surprised to see a line of figures in green camouflage standing at attention below the saluting gun. He had gone to the starboard wing of the bridge and saluted back. The gesture had really touched him.

With virus-relief operations underway it was time to look to home. He had told the crew that their next stop would be Norfolk. He hoped that they would find at least some good news when they got there.

* * *

 _A/N This is the last chapter of this section. They're back together, or will be next chapter, and then they can focus on "Returning"._


	16. Returning: Chapter 1

_I do not own The Last Ship._

 _ **Part 3: Returning**_

 **Chapter 1**

 **6 December 2014**

"Hello Doctor." Rachel looked up from the book she was not particularly enjoying. She had repeatedly asked for updates on the progress of the cure distribution, but the medical staff had refused. Even though she'd been a voracious reader when she was younger, these days she'd rather read a scientific journal and she couldn't really get into most fiction. If she did read, she preferred something totally out there like science fiction rather than action-adventure, which was all they seemed to have in this hospital.

While she wasn't a fan of Russians at the moment, she could probably make an exception for this one, "Artur, this is a surprise."

"I was planning to wait to come and see you for a few days, but they told me you're leaving this afternoon," he told her, "is it OK if I come in?"

"Of course," she told him.

He walked in and sat down. He was wearing civilian clothes and was clearly ill at ease and she was surprised. All the time on the Vyerni he had seemed very confident and in control. Now he seemed very tentative.

"I wanted to apologise Doctor." He looked at her without making eye contact.

She looked him straight in the eye, "I don't think _you_ have anything to apologise for Artur."

He tried to look everywhere but at her, "I was the one that brought you to the Vyerni. I thought I was doing my duty, but I was serving a despot."

"Did you really think I didn't know that you were the one that captured me Artur?" she asked gently, "Admiral Ruskov shoved it down my throat as often as possible. That was why he trusted you to take care of me."

He was surprised, "You knew?"

"Yes. At the beginning I hated all of you and I didn't hate you any more than the rest. But then you started doing those little things for me to make life more tolerable. Taking me out for exercise, talking to me when you could, getting me tea. When you stood up for me after the first Nathan James attack that meant a lot."

"I realised that what Ruskov was doing was wrong. Here you were, working diligently to find a cure to help everyone and he wanted to make it a strategic weapon. It was wrong. After he had you punished, I realised I had to get you out of there. I'm sorry I was too late."

She smiled sadly at him, "I'm sorry as well Artur. But what happened wasn't your fault. It was all Ruskov's. And maybe mine as well for not tipping you the wink. You were actually the first person I cured after I knew it worked."

It was like a light bulb going off, "That's why you asked me to stay away!" he exclaimed excitedly, "In case it didn't work, and you were exposed."

She smiled at him, "Yes, I wanted you to have a chance to get back to your family, even if it didn't work."

"Thank you, Doctor Scott. I can't thank you enough. And I'm still sorry I couldn't prevent what happened. I was off watch that night and someone else saw you leave the ship. If it had been me, I could have ignored it, but I wasn't there."

"What happened, happened. I won't say it wasn't absolutely horrible. And I won't say I'm over it because I'm not and I probably won't be for a very long time. But know that I don't blame you for it, Artur," she told him

"Thank you, Doctor, you are a very strong and admirable woman."

She didn't think she was. She thought anyone would do what she had. She smiled at him gently, "I think you've earned the right to call me Rachel."

"I would like that," he told her, "thank you Rachel."

They stared at one another for a few moments. "What are your plans now?" she asked.

"I managed to get through to a few friends in Murmansk. There is a virus-relief flight planned for there in a few days. I'll go there and hope to do some good and save some lives. I hope to find my family."

"Well, I'll wish you luck then," she told him.

He took the dismissal for what it was and got up, "Thank you Rachel. Goodbye and good luck to you as well."

* * *

"Good morning Doctor Scott." This time it was an army officer in camouflage utilities. She was getting better at British army ranks after being exposed to them for a few days. She thought this one was a major – a crown and no stars. The woman was quite short, probably about five-four, well-muscled and had short dark hair and a pretty face.

"Hi. Major?" she questioned.

The woman smiled, "Yes Doctor, I'm Major Nicky Etherington. I am, or rather I was, a senior rehabilitation consultant at Headley Court. I'm going to be helping you with your rehabilitation from your injuries."

She was surprised, "Surely you know I'm going to the US, Major?"

"I think you should call me Nicky, as long as its OK to call you Rachel?" she nodded, and the woman continued, "Yes, I know that, and it's no problem."

"Wouldn't you rather be here, majo- um Nicky?"

The woman smiled faintly, "It doesn't work like that in the military Rachel. I go where they send me!"

"But your family?"

Nicky's face fell. "Unfortunately, they didn't make it. My husband was an A&E consultant at Epsom hospital and I understand that he and my daughter died quite early on. I wasn't there; I was on pre-deployment training with 22 Field Hospital, like most of the medics here."

"I'm sorry," she told the woman, trying to make eye contact.

"Unfortunately, there's lots of us in the same boat. I volunteered actually. I've nothing here. My family are all gone and most of my patients are dead…" she looked very hurt.

Rachel reached out for the doctor's hand, trying to give her any little comfort, "How?" she asked.

"Amputees generally have weak immune systems. Their bodies have taken so much stress already…"

"Oh," she supposed that made sense. She wondered about her friend Miguel from back home. She hoped he was an exception. She smiled up at the woman who had tears running down her face, "Well, I can't promise to be the best patient, and I have to warn you I can be a right stroppy cow sometimes, patient or not!"

The woman smiled at her through her tears, gently disengaging her hand, "Don't worry Rachel, I'm used to tough patients, and I can give as good as I get!" she smiled again, brightening a little, "anyway I just wanted to introduce myself and warn you. The hard work starts tomorrow, but I'll see you on the chopper at 14.30 today. Enjoy your last fresh food!" and she turned away.

* * *

"Helo is 15 minutes out," the call came across CIC and Kara smiled. When the news had been circulated on Nathan James that Dr Scott would be coming back to the States with them, the crew had been excited. It was like they felt they had unfinished business with Rachel Scott.

The fact that she had continued on her mission even in horrific conditions had earned her a certain level of respect, and with the fact that she had succeeded, that had transitioned into hero worship for more than a few of them.

While Kara agreed with all of that, she was also pleased because Dr Scott's return gave her a chance to speak with the woman directly about Danny. She was convinced that Rachel Scott held the key to Danny's emotional recovery and she was sure that once she explained the issue, that the woman would be prepared to help. She hoped so anyway. While Danny was going through the motions, he was certainly not all there, and it was only a matter of time until someone noticed.

* * *

"What are we going to do about Green?" asked Mike. It was their daily get together to discuss what was going on around the ship and Mike had brought up an issue that had concerned them both for a while.

"I'm hoping we can finally put it to bed by getting Rachel to talk to him," he told Mike.

"Oh, Rachel is it now?" teased Mike.

"Well, we came to an arrangement," he replied, "she said that given the shared experiences we've had, maybe we should call each other by our first names."

"Yeah," Mike observed sadly, obviously thinking of Tom's after action report from Hell after his return from the Vyerni, "I can understand that. I assume she's thawed out a bit from how she was?"

"I think not having the weight of the world on her shoulders agrees with her." He replied, feeling a bit defensive of Rachel.

"Well, that would do it," Mike agreed, "maybe we can all start over."

"I think she'd like that. And I think you'll like her as well. She's different now. But you should watch out for her sense of humour. It's even worse than yours!"

The phone buzzed, and he picked it up. Barker announced, "Captain, CIC. Helo 10 minutes out."

* * *

She'd woken up in Nathan James' sickbay late that afternoon. They'd given her a mild sedation for the trip out and she'd fallen asleep straightaway. Nicky had been there when she awoke and also Rios, Nathan James' medic. They hadn't had a lot to do with one another on her last trip but he had been pleasant. He had introduced himself again and discussed what meds she was on.

"When do you think I can get out of here?" she asked.

"Well, I'd like to monitor the leg today. You've just had an operation after all. If everything is OK you can go back to your cabin tomorrow or the next day, I would think."

She must've still been drowsy because she confessed, "I was actually thinking of my lab."

He was unbending, "You will absolutely not be working in that lab for at least another three days, Doctor Scott. If I think you are working, I will pull you back here straightaway. Do we understand one another Doctor?"

She looked at Nicky, "He's in charge, Rachel," she smirked, "looks like you're stuck between a rock and a hard case!"

She was saved by the Captain arriving.

"Doctor Scott," he observed, "welcome back to Nathan James."

"Thank you, Captain," she answered, conscious that they were in public, "it's good to be back."

He turned and nodded to Nicky, "Major, welcome aboard," and she replied, "Captain."

"Is she behaving?" he asked.

Nicky smirked, "Just. She wants to go back to work, and we were just explaining that she'd have to wait."

He looked at her, "Put your feet up Doc." She glared at him.

"OK, OK," he told her, holding his hands up. Then he presented her with some papers he'd been carrying, "A peace offering," he told her.

"What are they?" she asked.

"Updates on the progress of relief flights, some models on cure penetration, some recent updates on the progress of the virus. If you're a good girl and obey doctors' orders you can start sitting in on our daily briefings as soon as Doc Rios cuts you free."

She looked longingly at Rios. He held up his hands, "Fine by me, but no manual work for three days. I'm serious about this. Your ribs need time to knit."

"Don't worry, hon," Nicky told her, "by the time we start on your physio and rehabilitation, you'll be too knackered to work!"

"I think you need to work on your bedside manner." She told the woman jokingly, but she was grateful, nevertheless. She enjoyed running and she'd been worried she'd never be able to run again. Nicky had told her that she should be able to run again within a few months if she kept to the rehab regime.

"Besides there are your crutches to learn how to use, which is going to be fun!" Nicky told her.

Tom looked around, "Could Doctor Scott and I have a moment alone please?" he asked, "We'll only be about 5 minutes." The other two nodded their acquiescence and left.

She looked at Tom, a bit surprised, "Is something wrong Tom?"

He signed, sat down next to her and faced her. "There's no easy way to say this Rachel, so I'll just spit it out. We need to debrief you about everything that happened on the Vyerni."

She stared at him. Of everything she had expected, this wasn't anywhere on the list. "Why?"

"Some of them got off the ship and if there are any crimes they need to be charged with, we need to know. And we also need to understand what happened to you there," he bit his lip, "and also what the stages were of virus development, etcetera."

She stared into the distance. What if they hated her? What if they wanted to arrest her for killing those people?

He grasped her hand, "And it might help you as well, to talk about it," he told her gently.

She looked at him, "I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about it, Tom. Some really bad things happened. I did some things I'm not proud of."

He didn't let go of her hand, "Rachel, you were in a war and in war sometimes we do have to do things we're not proud of. I've done things I'm not proud of. But I benefited from sharing them and I think you would as well."

"When?"

"We can start when you're ready. But I would recommend sooner rather than later."

"We?"

"I planned on asking Mike, that's Commander Slattery, to sit in and maybe you'd like a female officer to sit in with you as well?" she didn't know why he'd suggested that. Maybe for emotional support?

"OK," she was still a bit stunned.

He leaned over, "Rachel, it'll be alright."

She wished she could believe that. When they found out she'd killed five people they'd probably throw her in the brig.

* * *

"Evening Doctor Scott. I'm Kara Foster. May I come in?" The pretty, dark-haired woman introduced herself from the doorway. Rachel had been looking at the reports but with the vestiges of anaesthetic from earlier she still wasn't really tracking that well. Maybe tomorrow.

"Come in Lieutenant. I recognise you from before," she told her, wondering what this was about.

"I wanted to introduce myself. I sometimes work as a medical auxiliary for Doc Rios, so you might see me around. And I wondered if I could ask a favour?"

She felt her eyebrows rising, "Sure. I don't know what I can do, but if it's in my power, of course." It made a nice change from people wanting to thank her. She was always embarrassed and didn't know how to respond.

The woman smiled at her tightly and came to sit down beside her. She spoke in a low tone as if she didn't want to be overheard, "Doctor, Lieutenant Green is one of my friends…"

"Oh yes, how is Lieutenant Green? I was very sorry about his men. I don't think they enjoyed chaperoning me, but they were always professional, and I was horrified with what happened to them. What happened to the dog?"

Foster seemed surprised by the question, "Oh, Halsey is fine now. He took a bit of shrapnel but he's back on duty..."

"Good," she said, wondering what the point was.

Foster was obviously choosing her words carefully and couldn't find the right one. She smiled reassuringly, "Relax Lieutenant Foster. I'm not a monster. Just spit it out," she told her.

Foster smiled nervously, "Well what it is, is that Danny blames himself for what happened to you. He's been in pieces since you were taken and-"

"Oh, for God's sake!" she sputtered, "Men! Why is it always about them? As I told the Captain, I ordered Lieutenant Green to leave with the samples. It was the right decision based on the information we had. Would I rather I hadn't ordered him to go? Yes! Do I blame him for following my orders? Certainly not! And you can tell Mister High-And-Mighty-Thou-Shall-Not-Pass-Tough-Guy Navy SEAL that, OK?" she finished in almost a shout of exasperation.

"I got the message Doc," he said drily from the doorway. Foster must have jumped about five feet in the air in the chair next to her.

"Danny, it's not what you think-" she exclaimed.

He gazed at her across the room and Rachel was hard-pressed not to grin. _This is more than friendship_ , she thought. Finally, he gave her what Rachel could only describe as a loving half-smile. "Thanks for coming Kara,"

"Um, sure, well I'll just leave you two to it," stammered the woman, getting up.

"Oh, don't leave on my account," she said mischievously, looking between them.

"You don't have to leave," he told her, as he came into the room carrying a steaming mug. Rachel's eyes focused on it immediately.

"Is that-?" she asked.

"Tea from your stores, Doctor."

She smiled at him brightly. "Did I ever tell you that you're a Gentleman and a Scholar, Lieutenant Green?"

He looked surprised, "Uh-" he stammered as he passed the tea into her hands.

"Ohhhh," she moaned, breathing in the sweet scent. The two young officers looked at her in bemusement as she sipped the offering, savouring the taste as it slipped down her throat.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this. That Russian shit was foul. I think you'd better call me Rachel, Lieutenant Green. Anyone who brings tea is alright in my eyes!" she turned to Kara, "You as well Lieutenant," she lowered her voice, "since if I'm not mistaken you come as a pair. Don't try to deny it – it's written all over your faces." Their faces now were a picture. "Don't worry, I think you'll find I can keep a secret." They winced, but she didn't notice as she took another sip, savouring the taste, at once sharp but also sweet. There truly was nothing quite like it.

They had looked at each other, denial changing to horror changing to acceptance. Then Green had winked at Foster, "So, I'm Danny and she's Kara then," he said wryly, and then a bit more seriously, "I wanted to apologise Rachel and to tell you thank you."

She smiled at him, "I thought I was quite clear Danny - there's nothing to apologise for."

"Well, I think there is," he told her seriously.

"Well we'll just have to agree to disagree on that then Danny," she told him.

He smiled. "Well I'd…we'd…like to say thank you anyway."

"Thank you?" she queried.

"For the cure," he told her, holding up his hands as she tried to interrupt to tell him that no thanks were necessary as she'd only been doing her job. "Please, let me say this," he requested and she nodded, "I know you probably don't want thanks for doing your job. I wouldn't. But you have to understand that what you accomplished is far and away beyond just "doing your job"." His eyes bored into her as he continued, "I promise not to mention it again, but I've been a prisoner before," Foster gasped, obviously caught unawares, "I know a little of what you've been through. It was why I was so upset at losing you," he paused, gathering his thoughts, and Foster reached out for his hand. He took her hand, seeming to unconsciously gather strength from it, "To carry on with your job through that. To endure what you endured and come out the end of it. Let me just say you have my complete admiration Rachel. And my thanks. And if you ever need to talk about it, I will always be here."

She stared at him, wondering what to say. There were tears in her eyes. In all of their eyes. She went with humour, "It's a shame you didn't reveal this eloquence and sensitivity when we were working together before Danny; it might have gone a bit smoother!"

He smiled at her and sketched a salute. He knew what she was doing, "Well, I've got a reputation to uphold, Doc," he told her.

She nodded and said quietly to him, "But thank you," they nodded at one another and then she smiled at both of them, "so, tell me about the two of you?"

* * *

 _A/N So they're on their way home. Obviously there'll be a fair amount of talking and angst during the journey, but also some action in this section as well._


	17. Returning: Chapter 2

_I do not own The Last Ship_

 **Part 3: Chapter 2**

 **7 December 2014**

Kara sat on the floor by her bed with her arms wrapped around herself, staring at the wall. She was profoundly disturbed. _Danny must never learn about this_ , she thought. She hadn't moved from this position since she'd returned from the MedBay 10 minutes ago. In her role as a Medical Auxiliary Doc Rios had asked her whether she'd be prepared to help Major Etherington bed bath Doctor Scott. After that conversation with Rachel last night she had been happy to volunteer. Rios had felt that, given Rachel's experiences, a woman would be better than a man for the role. He had been so right.

She had turned up at the appointed hour to find Rachel propped up in the bed covered in sweat. She had looked bemusedly at a number of balls, weights and things she didn't recognise on the floor around the bed. Etherington had just been putting away some of her equipment and had glanced up. "Oh, Lieutenant, good," she had said.

Rachel had been more forthcoming "Kara, thank God! Tell me you're here to save me from the mini-Hitler here!"

Etherington had grinned up at Rachel, "I told you you'd hate me! Actually, the Lieutenant's here to help me bed bath you. Don't look now but you're sweating like an ox!"

Rachel had looked uncomfortable, "I can have a shower, can't I?"

Etherington had been unmoving, "You can't get the leg wet until the wound's closed, which'll be another four or five days, and we'd prefer you don't get some of these deep cuts on your torso wet either until they've fully closed, so we need to wash round them. They're all an infection risk."

Etherington had turned to Kara, "Lieutenant – is it OK if I call you Kara?" she had nodded as the Major went on, "and I would ask you to call me Nicky when we're working together. It makes for an easier environment for the patient."

Rachel had tried one more time, asking in a small voice, "Are you sure we need to do this?"

Nicky had replied matter-of-factly, "Yes Rachel, otherwise you'll smell minging." Turning to Kara she asked, "Kara can you close the door and pull the curtain round the bed? And grab some of those wet wipes I left out on the surface?" As Kara had moved to comply, Nicky finished putting away her equipment and stood up, putting her hand reassuringly on Rachel's arm. "It's OK Rachel, I know it's hard, particularly the first time. But you'll get used to it. And you'll be so thankful when you can have your own shower. And we'll wash your hair later as well."

Kara looked down at Rachel, who seemed to have withdrawn and was looking very nervous. "Are you OK Rachel?" she asked gently.

Rachel had looked at her with wide, scared eyes, "The last time I was naked with people standing around me, they were torturing me."

She had been about to reply but Nicky glanced at her warningly and minutely shook her head. She let the older woman take over. "But you know you're safe here Rachel. We're going to take care of you. It'll be five minutes and then it'll be over. Now buck up hon!"

Tough love seemed to work as Rachel had drawn back from the incipient panic attack. She remembered the Rachel Scott from before being a bit more "never say die". To admit this level of uncertainty must have cost her a lot. But in that moment of insecurity Rachel was somehow more accessible than she'd ever seemed before. Nicky smiled at her and reached down to draw back the hospital gown from the top of her body, leaving the bottom covered. "See?" she asked Rachel reassuringly, "not naked." She turned to Kara, "OK Kara, gentle dabs and try not to dislodge any scabs."

Kara hadn't seen what lay below Rachel's gown last night, but her injuries were profoundly disturbing. She'd gently dabbed away to clean Rachel, hearing Nicky keeping up a steady stream of banter in the background as she too helped dab at Rachel's damaged body. Kara had done everything asked of her but under the surface, she was dying. _How could they treat her like this? Someone who was helping, saving humanity? How could she cope, go on? How could she be so normal?_ Afterwards, she was on autopilot. Nicky had smiled at her and thanked her, suggesting the same time tomorrow. She had nodded like an automaton and left, walking back to her cabin and slumping against the wall. And here she was 10 minutes later, still traumatised by what she'd seen.

The door opened. "Kara? Kara?" It was Alisha. "Kara, what are you doing down there? Are you OK?" _Was she alright?_ Actually, she wasn't sure she was. But what right did she have to not be alright when Rachel was obviously doing her best to be alright and she'd suffered so much?

Alisha knelt down next to her, "Kara," she whispered and reached out for her hand, "Major Etherington suggested I came to be with you. What happened?"

She looked at her friend, trying to make sense of the swirl of emotions going around her head. "It was horrible. Doc Rios asked me to go down to help with Doctor Scott. The Major asked me to help bed bath her. I've never seen anything like it, Alisha," she told her friend, "she was just trying to help, and they treated her like that. She saved us all!" She was in tears and Alisha pulled her into a hug. "We failed her."

Alisha comforted her for a bit and then pulled back, putting her arms on Kara's shoulders and looking her in the eye, "But Kara, she doesn't see it that way. You told me what she said last night. She doesn't blame Danny. She doesn't blame us. We shouldn't blame ourselves either."

She looked at Alisha. She knew her friend was right, but she didn't know what Rachel had gone through, "They beat her with rubber hoses when a vaccine trial failed," she told Alisha who jerked back in disgust. "And then, when they were trying to get the vaccine details out of her... God, they whipped her and beat her and they used electricity," she looked away, and then back at Alisha, "I cannot describe to you how strong and amazing that woman is, that she endured all of that but that she still came out the other side."

Alisha smiled at her tentatively. "Then that's what you need to focus on baby," she told her gently, "not what was done to her, but what she's done and what she's doing. She'll need support, ours and others, to get through this. We weren't there for her then, but we _can_ be there for her now."

She looked at her friend in surprise. "Who are you and what have you done with Alisha?"

Her friend thumped her arm, "Hey, I can be profound." Then she grinned cheekily, "Besides, she's quite good looking. Maybe she'll be up for a bit of "companionship"?!"

"Alisha!" she gasped, and her friend grinned at her, "Gotcha! Now time to get up. We have to go and help our new friend."

* * *

"Come on lazy bones," Rachel had really struggled with the feelings of helplessness brought up by the bed bath. It was clear to all of them that they needed a break. Kara had almost run away, overcome, it seemed, by Rachel's injuries. Rachel, who was seeing the aftermath of her injuries for the first time (she hadn't wanted to look before) had been really emotional. After reassuring her that she would look less like an axe murderer over the next few days and helping her to calm down, Nicky had also vanished to "get some fresh air". Rachel wasn't sure she believed the reason given, but she had been happy enough to get some time to herself to try and get to grips with her feelings of revulsion and vulnerability.

On her return, Nicky had decided to give Rachel "something else to focus on", so she wouldn't dwell on her injuries and Kara's reaction. They were currently working on getting her out of bed. "It's tough," Nicky had told her, "but we'll do it in stages."

Sitting up was difficult for Rachel; her stomach muscles and ribs were protesting, but she had managed to sit upright under her own steam for the first time since she'd got back to Nathan James. The trouble was she was now being assaulted by waves of dizziness.

"Just hold here and let it pass," Nicky told her, supporting her back, "It'll take a few minutes. Then we're going to get you standing and we'll teach you to use your crutches so you can get around."

She thought about that. Given Kara's reaction to her she must look a mess. "I'm not sure that'll be a good idea," she replied.

"Whyever not?" Nicky asked, surprised.

"Well, I obviously look shocking and I don't want to be a burden to anyone. I don't want people to feel they have to help me," she replied. She wasn't sure she wanted everyone to see her like she looked, and she didn't see how she would be able to move around without asking for help. Just sitting up had totally wiped her out.

"Well, we need to do something about that hair, but after that you'll be hot to trot Doc!" came a new voice from the door. She looked around and saw Kara and a pretty young black woman standing there. The other woman was holding a plastic basin which contained what looked like about four tubes of hair products and a towel. Her uniform said "Granderson" on it.

"My roommate Alisha," explained Kara to Rachel. "I told her that we didn't have time to do your hair this morning and she volunteered. She's almost religious about cosmetics so it's a huge sacrifice for her to give up some of her beauty products for you – you should be honoured Rachel. Ouch!" she exclaimed as Alisha smacked her on the shoulder. "She's also downright scary, so I'd just accept if I were you Doc!" she said, correctly guessing that Rachel had been about to refuse.

"I don't want to be a burden," Rachel explained, "I don't want you to feel you have to help me." And she didn't. Rachel had always been self-reliant in her life. She didn't want to cause other people (non-medics anyway) to have to care for her.

The young woman, Alisha, shook her head, "Doc, you're about as far from being a burden as it's possible to be. For starters, you're sick, and my Daddy always told me to help the sick. For seconds, you're sick because you did your duty. And we all understand that better than you can imagine. You were hurt in the line of duty. What you did will save thousands, millions of lives. That makes you the opposite of a burden. That makes you a hero. And if you got a bit banged up. So what? We'll help put you back together."

"I just feel so useless…" Rachel moaned. She was touched by the woman's words but the feeling of being less than she had been before was overwhelming. How long until she could function on her own? Would she ever be able to function on her own? Would she be able to walk? Would she be able to run? Would the scarring go, or would she always look like an axe murderer? Would she be able to go out in public? All these questions, and others, assailed her.

"Rachel," said Kara, coming into the room with Alisha, and sitting next to the bed reaching out to lay her hand on Rachel's shoulder and look her in the eye, "I'm sorry for my reaction earlier. I was just gutted that they had treated you like that. It wasn't a reaction to how you look."

She looked at the woman and could see the honesty in her eyes. Then Nicky chimed in, "Rachel, I don't know what it's like in the States, but presumably they have a day during the year when Armed Forces veterans parade like we do on Remembrance Sunday?"

"Yes?" answered Rachel, not sure where she was going with this.

"And you've seen the kids from Afghanistan and Iraq with their horrific injuries?" she asked.

"Yes…" replied Rachel, thinking of Miguel, the receptionist from CDC in Atlanta. Miguel had had both legs amputated in Iraq, but he was the most inspiring person she knew. He had adapted to his situation and then instead of feeling sorry for himself had gone out and got himself a new job. She remembered stopping to talk to him one day and asking about his injuries. How he was totally accepting of his new normal but determined to make the best of it.

"And what do you think when you see those veterans with multiple amputations walking in the parade with their prosthetics, desperately trying to get on with their lives?"

"Admiration," replied Rachel, thinking back, "massive admiration that they can endure so much but still be fighting. Still come up for more…. But it's not the same thing," she told Nicky, realising where she was going with this. "Those guys are superhuman. What they do is amazing, and my injuries are nothing like as bad as theirs!"

"You're right that your situation's nothing like theirs Rachel," Nicky told her, looking directing into her eyes, "You know what the difference is between you and them?" she asked, going on to answer her own question, "They signed up to go to a war zone. They knew there was a risk of a serious injury. You didn't. You went into a situation where you just wanted to save lives. You were kidnapped and taken into a war zone and you carried on regardless. You never took your eyes off the mission. You were prepared to risk your life to find a cure and to get it out there. And you endured.

"I don't just treat amputees, you know. I treat everyone in the military who needs rehabilitation. We give general anaesthetic for leg breaks as bad as yours. It can result in amputation. You didn't have any anaesthetic. Yet you still had the wherewithal to give Captain Chandler the Cure and tell him how to spread it. To tell him to leave you there, even though you knew there was a chance they wouldn't be able to go back for you.

"I can tell you, Doctor Rachel Scott, that I've personally met over 50 amputees and I think you're the bravest person I've ever met. And, like all those amputee soldiers, you will never be a burden." Nicky finished fiercely, her eyes never leaving Rachel's.

Rachel couldn't help it. She burst into tears. Kara was there, moving over to sit next to her on the bed, gently wrapping her in a hug. "I feel the same Rachel, you're a hero to me," she told her tearfully.

"And me," came the tearful confirmation from Alisha.

"And to me," came a male voice from the door. Rachel jerked up. She wasn't the only one - obviously nobody else knew that they had company either. Captain Chandler stood there, his eyes suspiciously moist as well, "I heard what Major Etherington said, and I'm in complete agreement, Rachel," he told her gently, "you will not be a burden. It is our pleasure, indeed our honour, to help you recover from these injuries that you received in service, not just to our country but to our world."

She stared at him and he smiled gently at her. There was a lot unsaid between them. It was, after all, he who had seen her at her worst. She saw that knowledge in his eyes, and also his reassurance. His compassion. His empathy.

"Th- thank you," she stammered out, looking at him, then at all of them. "Thank you all." She wanted to say more but she didn't think she could, just at the moment. The emotion was so thick in the room that it was almost suffocating.

Nicky looked at her again. She reached up and gently wiped a tear away from Rachel's less-bruised cheek, "And don't think those military veterans don't have bad days now and again Rachel. Because they do. It's not weak to have a bad day. It's weak to keep it bottled up inside and not let your friends help out. We're here. Tell us about it and we'll help you." She smiled reassuringly.

"We will," Tom looked at her and she could see the truth in his eyes, "All of us will help you if you let us. You just need to trust us enough to ask."

She hadn't thought about it in that way before. That people might actually want to help. That perhaps by not asking for help she was running away. That she might get better quicker if she just asked for help. It wasn't a natural thing for her. Her upbringing had all been about bottling up emotions, about being self-contained. And she had been self-contained all of her life. Brad and Connie were the only ones she'd ever let in. Everyone else had been outside her walls. Now these people were asking her to open up her gates, to let down her shields.

She smiled tearfully at Tom, "It's a difficult thing to do, but I'll try my best. Thank you. All of you," she finished, unable to articulate what this meant to her.

Nicky smiled at her. "If it was easy Rachel anyone could do it! I know you can do it. You are the toughest person I know, but you don't have to do it alone. Let us help."

And she decided then and there that she _would_ let them help. She thought suddenly then that this must be what having a family felt like.

* * *

 _A/N Phew! That was pretty tough to write. Hopefully it came out OK. Thanks for all the reviews. I'm a bit behind on my PMs (due to an invasion of real life taking away from my writing time!) but I will catch up and thanks also to the guest reviewers._


	18. Returning: Chapter 3

_I do not own The Last Ship_

 **Part 3: Chapter 3**

 **9 December 2014**

"Morning, Doctor," he greeted Rachel as she entered his wardroom. She still wasn't great with the crutches, but she was getting there. They were only a few days out of Norfolk now and he was starting to worry about what they would find there. But there was still plenty to do and he was making sure he focused on his work to avoid the worry.

"Captain. Commander," she replied, nodding at Mike, who nodded back. He gestured to a chair but didn't help her as he felt that she'd rather do it herself. Certainly, when he was on crutches two years ago he'd got annoyed with people trying to help all the time.

"Just waiting for the call, Rachel," he told her just as the screen in front of them started to flicker and resolved into a group of people sitting around a conference table. Having taken part in the conversation in sickbay the previous day he had decided that it was important she start to feel useful again, so he had decided that it was time that she was invited to this particular conference call.

"Good morning Captain Chandler," said Brigadier Wilkins. It was the third conference call they'd had with the British command team that was managing distribution of the Cure.

"Good afternoon, Brigadier," he replied, since the UK was four hours ahead of them in this time zone. "I'm pleased to say that Doctor Scott is joining Commander Slattery and myself today, and she'll be sitting in on all our calls from now on."

"Doctor Scott," greeted the Brigadier, "I'm very glad to see you looking better," he told her, "I've got a few other people joining me today as well. To my right is Commander Mark Roberts, our senior Royal Navy officer who's in charge of getting some of our ships to sea, and to my left is Group Captain John Daniels who is co-ordinating the relief flights. And we're joined on the call by Dr Glen Rogers who is coordinating our production of the cure."

They all exchanged greetings, before the Brigadier continued, "Gentleman and Lady, before we begin I need to inform you of a very serious development. Last night there was a missile attack on our main virus-relief flight centre at Heathrow airport."

They were all shocked. Rachel was first to react, "My God, was anyone hurt?" she asked.

"Sadly, we did have a few injuries, but luckily no fatalities," the Brigadier replied, "but more importantly they damaged one of the runways and the refuelling terminal. The refuelling terminal is most important. It's going to take several days to repair and we won't be able to launch any more flights in the interim.

"I need to tell you that we believe that the missiles were launched from a submarine in the Atlantic." He subsided as Tom leaned back in his chair, thinking.

"Do you think it's Immunes again, sir?" asked Mike.

The Brigadier gave a grimace, "No way of knowing Commander," he replied, "but that's my guess and ties in with the other reports we've had. But I think it has to be a salutary lesson to us that there are still enemies out there and we mustn't let our guards down.

"I've instructed that mobile surface-to-air missile and gun systems be brought in around Heathrow, Portsmouth and our key manufacturing labs, and we've beefed up our guards in those locations as well. They won't be able to get through as easily again. We're also working on getting some ASW assets to sea and I'll ask Commander Roberts to brief you on that in a second. But I wanted to tell you because you may have to change your plans for when you get to Norfolk."

"Thank you, sir," Tom told the Brigadier, nodding. He had discussed some of his thoughts and plans with the Brigadier on the previous call. "We'll work on developing some anti-air capability in Norfolk."

Commander Roberts was next. "We're working on getting HMS Talent, which is a Trafalgar Class SSN, and HMS St Albans, which is a Type 23 Frigate, back into service. They're both ASW platforms. Manpower is our issue at the moment. We've got ASW specialists but we're struggling to find enough people with experience of doing other things on the ships. But if we get a lead on the sub, we're hoping that we'll be in a position to prosecute it within about seven days."

"Thank you, Commander," said the Brigadier, "OK, so just to update you with where we are on virus-relief flights, we've launched…" as he spoke all Tom could think about was the submarine, and how that could stick a huge spanner in the works.

* * *

"Thanks everyone for coming," This was her second meeting of the day. This one a strategy meeting for how they would start to distribute the cure in the US. She was pleased to be involved since it took her attention away from her aches and pains and from unpleasant memories. There was only so long you could sit in your cabin without going crazy, and even though Nicky, Kara and Alisha had spent time with her, when the two young lieutenants were on duty time dragged.

Tom had greeted them as they took a seat. This was easier for most than her, but he had thankfully positioned her seat so that she could stretch her leg and cast out, and rest her crutches on the floor. "This meeting is the first of a regular meeting to discuss our plans for the distribution of the Cure once we get back to the US. I've asked Doctor Scott to join our little planning group from now on as she will have important knowledge and ideas that we can utilise."

The group all nodded to her. She knew several of them already; Tom, the Master Chief, the XO and Danny Green obviously, but there were a few faces she didn't know well, such as the TAO, Lt Commander Barker, and the contractor who she only knew as "Tex", who had apparently been picked up from Guantanamo Bay.

"Obviously we've got the daily updates coming from the UK and we know they've rolled out the cure to some US cities, but we've agreed to focus those flights on destinations inland and on the West Coast that we can't easily get to.

"The plan, once we get to Norfolk, is to see if we can set up a manufacturing facility ourselves and procure air assets to help with distribution, but we need to decide which centres to focus on."

"Sir," it was Barker, "obviously Baltimore and DC are within easy reach of Norfolk and those are both large population centres and we could head up to Philly as well. Has New York been mentioned by the British?"

"Yes, they sent a plane to New York but the population in the city itself has been pretty much cored out. We might have better luck with the suburbs," replied Tom, turning to her, "what do you think Doctor?"

"Well I think we'll do better with suburbs generally anyway. Inner cities don't really lend themselves to high survival rates for long periods of time. There is no arable land or animals to hunt and people are living in close quarters so they're more likely to become infected. I feel that we'll probably do better outside the big conurbations," she told them.

"Agreed. So perhaps TAO you could work with Dr Scott and the XO to assemble a list of high priority targets for us on the East Coast and also for distribution by air if we can find enough pilots?" asked the Captain. His subordinates agreed, and she nodded her head affirmatively.

"Captain, there's one issue I'm a bit concerned about," Barker piped up.

"Go ahead, TAO."

"I think we should try and conserve as much Cure as we can when we go to Norfolk. Given that we don't know how easy it's going to be to make or get more, and I'm not sure if there'll be enough people in Norfolk itself to trigger the Scott Effect."

What was that? Had she misheard? "I'm sorry Commander," she said, turning to him, " _the Scott effect_?"

The TAO shifted in his seat and looked at her apologetically, "Erm, sorry Doctor Scott. Er, sir?" he looked anxiously at the Captain.

She followed his gaze, "Captain Chandler?" she asked.

"Yes, Doctor Scott," he replied, obviously trying not to smile. Commander Slattery wasn't so successful, and the traitor Danny Green was unashamedly smirking at her. "It's a terminology that's evolved for that critical mass effect in terms of number of people and the contagious cure that you described to me."

"I see," she set her mouth in a straight line, "And did _you_ happen to come up with this terminology Captain?" she asked dangerously. Because if he had, Nathan James was going to be down one Captain. And even if he hadn't and he hadn't told her about this he was going to incur her wrath.

"No Doctor, it was a civil servant in the UK," he told her.

She looked at him directly, "Well I don't like the terminology. How about we just call the effect critical mass?"

He smiled at her blandly, "I'm afraid the terminology is already in quite wide use Doctor. Why don't you use _critical mass_ and we'll stick with _the Scott Effect_? It has a nice ring to it don't you think?"

She glared at him as everyone around the table tried to hide their grins. "I see Captain. It seems you're keen to attract my retribution," she told him.

"I assure you not Doctor," he replied, "but the terminology is already in worldwide use and it can be confusing to try and introduce separate terminology after the fact, as it were." He smirked at her, "shall we move on?"

She glared at him again, telling him with her eyes that this wasn't over, "By all means, Captain."

* * *

 **11 December 2014**

"Captain to Comms! Captain to Comms!" the call came over the 1MC as he was on the way to the Bridge, so he immediately reversed his direction and headed back towards the Comms office.

"What have you got?" he asked, storming through the door.

Mike was standing with Mason, "Captain you need to hear this!" he said, signalling to Mason to turn up the receiver.

A woman's voice came on, "This is the United States Hospital Ship Solace transmitting in the clear without encryption or secret codes, as required by article 34 of the second Geneva Convention…"

"Enough," he told Mason who turned it down. He looked at Mike, "A hospital ship. Why would they be at sea? Surely you'd bring everything back to port in an emergency?"

"I don't know Captain, should we check it out?" Mike asked.

He thought for a few seconds. A hospital ship meant doctors and surely they could help with the cure roll-out. While he was keen to get home this could just make a substantial difference. "Yes, I think we should." He turned to Mason, "can you triangulate their position?"

The kid just smiled, "Already did Captain, bearing two-zero-zero."

He smiled at the kid. He was definitely bucking for a raise. "Good work, Mason." He picked up the phone, "Bridge, this is the Captain, steer two-zero-zero, flank speed."

"Aye Captain," replied Granderson, repeating, "Steer two-zero-zero. Flank speed."

As they left the room, he looked at Mike, "Can you go and inform Doctor Scott?"

The XO grinned at him, "Why, are you too scared Captain?"

He glared at the man, but his shit-eating grin was not diminished a bit. "I'm a Commander in the US Navy. Why would I be scared?"

Mike looked at him pityingly, "Well, let me see," he said, "you picked a fight with someone who has history for planning her actions out in advance," he was ticking his points off on his fingers, "has proven that she will accomplish the mission no matter what sacrifice she has to make, told you that she was gonna get you back, who is outside your chain of command and, in your own words, has a wicked sense of humour. And, to add insult to injury, she's a doctor and knows lots of nasty ways of causing pain. So, you tell me why you wouldn't be scared?"

Mike was just yanking his chain, "Good points, but I still don't think she'll do anything."

As Mike walked away, he muttered sotto voce, "Yeah, and you just keep telling yourself that Tom!"

* * *

"Down there, do you see it Doctor?" Tom asked her, pointing down to the right. Yes, she saw it. You'd have to be blind not to see a massive white ship with red crosses painted all over it.

"Yes Captain," she replied, mindful of the other ears listening. She was still a bit pissed off with him for the revelation of the Scott Effect. _What a stupid name_ , she grumped. But she had decided on her retaliation and now she just had to wait for the right time to spring it. She thought it was honestly a bit cowardly of him that he'd sent Mike Slattery to inform her about the hospital ship and Mike had agreed with her, literally telling her that Tom was too scared to come himself.

She knew Mike was teasing both of them, but that was fine. She hadn't had much to do with him outside the line of duty when she'd been on Nathan James before and he'd obviously been waiting for her to recover a bit before talking to her, but he'd come up to her at dinner last night to ask how she was doing and they'd had a good chat. He had asked her to call him by his given name in private and she had agreed that he should call her Rachel. He had asked her to cut Tom some slack. He'd told her that he'd known Tom for a long time and that he was a good man, but apt to be introverted. And like her he was under a lot of pressure. But almost in the same breath he'd told her that humour was a good way of keeping Tom on his feet and he was looking forward to her retaliation. She'd recognised the challenge, but she'd also been grateful for the implied understanding and acceptance.

Mike had invited her to the bridge to hear them make contact with the hospital ship, and she remembered the barely hidden elation in the voice of the other ship's captain. When all the authentications were out the way and he heard that they had the Cure, he had invited them on board. The helicopter landed, and they were met by an escort to take them into the superstructure. The man kept shooting her questioning looks. Obviously wondering about the civilian with the Navy sailors, particularly one who was looking rather the worse for wear.

The man who met them in the superstructure looked nothing like the crew of the Nathan James. He was a lot older for starters, and he had a moustache. He was dressed in shirt and trousers with a green jacket. "Captain, welcome aboard," he greeted Tom, shaking his hand, "I'm Captain Mark Smits and it is wonderful to see you."

Tom had nodded, "Commander Tom Chandler, US Navy," and then he had introduced the other members of their party, "Lieutenant Green, Mr Nolan and Dr Rachel Scott, who developed the cure."

The man shook all their hands, pausing at hers. He looked at her quizzically, obviously taking in her still slightly battered looking visage, but decided not to comment on it, for which she was thankful, "Dr Scott," he had said, "it is an honour to meet you." He had smiled at her, "now let me go and introduce you to our team. I think they will also be excited to meet you."

He led them down and down into the core of the ship. Rachel had lost track of where they were, when they walked into what was obviously a lab area. Three men and two women were working in the area and they all looked up, including a woman who was very familiar to her.

"Rach!" shouted the familiar petite, black haired woman, running towards her. At her side Danny tensed but relaxed when she put her hand on his arm. She regretted it when the force of nature that was Connie Hu reached her and swept her up in a hug.

"Ouch!" she grunted, "Connie! Get off. Broken ribs!"

Connie immediately released her, looking up at her, concerned, "God Rach, what happened to you?" she gasped, "you look like shit!"

She mock glared at the woman, "We haven't seen each other for eight months and you go with "you look like shit"? You're precariously close to being off my Christmas card list!" She noted the sniggers that their byplay was causing among her companions, and turned to Tom, "Captain, apologies. This is my friend Doctor Connie Hu of the CDC. Connie, this is Captain Tom Chandler of USS Nathan James, Lieutenant Danny Green and Tex Nolan."

Connie glared at her, "Don't think I didn't notice you didn't answer my question Rachel."

Behind her Tex laughed, "I like your friend Doc, she's a real pistol!"

"And don't you know it!" Connie told him.

"Perhaps you could introduce us to your colleagues, Connie?" she said, gesturing at the other scientists who were watching the interplay rather bemusedly.

"Oh, yes. Sorry guys," Connie apologised to her colleagues, "Rachel's an old friend. Doctor Rachel Scott, medical director at CDC, these are Dr Nick Milowksy, Dr Kathleen Richardson, Dr Joe Estevez and Dr Kevin Starr. And there's a few more of us in the lab as well."

"Good to meet you all," replied Rachel, "Dr Estevez, I'm familiar with your work on stereoisomers and Dr Richardson I read the piece you co-authored on DNA scissors which was very helpful to me in developing the cure. I can't thank you enough."

"Cure?!" gasped Connie, "Rach, you have a cure?"

"Yup, did I not mention that?" she asked nonchalantly, pulling a vial out of her pocket, "Want some?"

* * *

The trip to the Solace this afternoon had been a bit of an eye-opener for Tom, to be sure. The reaction of the scientists when Rachel pulled out the vial of cure had been brilliant. However, given her deadpan delivery he would have to admit he was now a little more worried about her announced retribution.

After the surprise of seeing Rachel pull out the cure, the scientists had got into an academic conversation pretty rapidly. He had looked bemusedly at Green, Tex and Captain Smits as the scientists had started talking in what sounded like a totally different language. The Hospital Ship captain had grinned at him, "Get used to it Captain. There's fifteen of them on board and sometimes I wonder if we actually speak the same language!"

"Fifteen. That's a lot," he had asked, "what was your mission?"

The man had looked at him evaluatingly, "You know about the attacks on labs?" he had nodded, "we took on a level four biolab from Norfolk and our orders were to wait for a US Navy ship that was returning with the cure and to set up an offshore manufacturing facility. I assume that ship was yours?"

He had replied, "I think that was the intention. As it happens the cure wasn't actually developed on my ship, but we had contact with the White House until they went black and no other ships were mentioned."

There was no way, in his view, with that sub around, that he could leave the Solace offshore. They had to land the lab in Norfolk, and probably split it up as well for security. He looked at the Captain, "The latest intelligence we have is that there is a hostile submarine that's attacking laboratories manufacturing the cure. I can't give you orders, Captain, but would you consent to coming back to Norfolk with us so that we can land this lab and decentralise it? It's too dangerous for you to stay out here."

The other captain looked at him piercingly for a few seconds, "I agree Captain. I'm happy to put myself and my crew under the Navy's command once we're ashore. I'm sure you'll need some extra bodies."

He extended his hand for the shake, "Thank you Captain." He nodded at the scientists, "Now we just have to tell _them_!"

They'd eventually managed to explain to the scientists what was going on and they'd agreed. He had asked Rachel if she wanted to stay on the hospital ship overnight, but she'd declined. She had not wanted to explain why just then but after they'd returned to Nathan James she'd admitted that she didn't like all the attention and adoration. He'd suggested that it probably was something she should get used to.

As they were preparing to leave, Connie had cornered Rachel. "Rachel," she had told her quietly, "you're different. Are you OK?" Rachel had looked at her tiredly, "I'm sorry love. Some bad things did happen to me over the past few months, but I'm not ready to talk about it yet." The small woman had reached up to very gently hug her friend, "I'll be here when you are." Then she had looked around at him and his crew and told them, "Thanks for looking after her, she's very special to me and she doesn't always take the best care of herself."

He had told her, "Don't worry Dr Hu, we already knew that. But we _will_ take care of her. She's one of us now."


	19. Returning: Chapter 4

_I do not own The Last Ship_

 **Part 3: Chapter 4**

 **12 December 2014**

 _That woman will be the death of me_ , he thought affectionately. _Mind you, it's my own stupid fault. Mike did warn me after all about prodding sleeping lions!_ And Mike had, but he hadn't expected her to retaliate quite so forcefully as she had. Still, he had to admit, in retrospect only (because it had been gutting at the time), that it had been funny. She'd certainly paid him back good for teasing her.

But it _had_ been fun to tease her about "The Scott Effect", as everyone was calling it, because she was the last one to shout about her achievements. He found he liked that about her. It was one of many things that he was finding he liked about Rachel Scott and he was very glad that they'd get a second chance to build a friendship.

Frankly, he admired her. Not only because of what she'd done with the cure. Saving the world, in itself, was quite enough, but there was so much else about her that impressed him. What she'd gone through might have broken some people. First the pressure of knowing she had the future of humanity in her hands, then the kidnap and being forced to work for the Russians, the need to get the Cure out that involved risking her life and then the beatings, which had been horrific. He'd seen some pretty bad things over the course of his career, but he hadn't seen too many things worse than seeing her broken body hanging in that room. He admired her strength, to come back from that.

He'd meant what he'd said the other day about how it would be an honour to help her heal, because it honestly would. He wasn't surprised that she was having trouble adapting to her injuries and getting over what had happened on the Vyerni. And he didn't believe it would be a quick fix either. She'd need long-term support. Getting over her injuries could take months, getting over what happened on the Vyerni would likely take years.

But he'd meant it when he said he'd be there for her. Whatever came out in her debrief. Because it was clear from a few of the things she'd said that she thought she'd done some pretty bad things on the Vyerni. Maybe she had, but from his point of view if the result was saving the world, the end probably justified the means. He would be there for her for as long as she needed it because that's what friends did. And he'd be proud to call Rachel Scott his friend. But he'd make sure he didn't pick any more fights with her!

He was pleased that some of his JOs had reached out to her as well. Seeing Foster and Granderson in the Med Bay the other day had made him happy for her. They were both good kids, and they'd both impressed him with their professionalism but also with their humanity. He thought Foster, in particular, had a lot of potential in the Navy. And it could only be good for Rachel to mix more with the crew.

She'd got her retaliation in at the latest cure distribution strategy meeting. He'd welcomed everyone, told them to settle down and then invited her to present the cure distribution strategy that she, Mike and Barker had come up with. He couldn't remember exactly what he'd said, but it was something like, "Doctor Scott, will you present your findings?". Then he'd settled back in his chair and taken a good large sip of coffee, looking forward to hearing what they'd come up with. But it hadn't quite worked out like that.

"Certainly, Captain Chandler," she had told him professionally, lulling him into a false sense of security before sliding in the rapier, "but I thought we'd agreed you'd call me Rachel? After all, you _have_ seen me naked!"

He'd spat his coffee out all over the table and looked up in shock to find her giving him the once over. "Oh dear, Captain," she'd told him, "control problems? How disappointing." She gave him a shit-eating grin as Tex, Green and Mike all burst out laughing and even Barker had a smile on his face which was impressive because, even though he thought the man was very professional, he'd yet to identify a sense of humour on him! He'd goggled at her, stunned not only that she'd said that, but also that she'd said it in public, and she had continued to grin toothily at him.

"Oh shit, Doc!" Tex had exclaimed, turning to him, "Tactical advice Captain? Quit now!"

That was good advice, and he had to applaud her for a well-plotted retaliation. Mike had warned him she was a planner. So chalk up one more for the XO. He supposed it took one to know one. People who didn't know Mike might have underestimated his sense of humour, but he certainly had one and it was nasty. "I think you're right," he had said, holding his hands up, and then turning to her he had requested, "Pax, Rachel? I surrender."

"Glad you have a good grasp of the tactical realities, Captain," she had replied, "I accept your surrender." Pausing for a few seconds to enjoy her victory, she looked around the table, gave him a quick wink and then started her briefing.

* * *

 **13 December 2014**

"What do you see?" asked Mike. It was clear he was pretty nervous, and he hadn't been able to sit still since they met on the Bridge for the final approach to the Base. It was a bright and cold morning as Nathan James approached the Norfolk Naval Base, her home port. Given Mike's situation and the way Christine had blamed him for Lucas' death when he'd called in, he couldn't blame his friend for his nervousness. He hoped Mike's family would be OK. With kids of similar ages, they knew one another's families quite well. Mike's son Lucas had been a lovely kid and his daughters Lucy and Hannah were very cute. Not as cute as Ashley, obviously, but still really good kids. Lucy was a year older than Ashley and Hannah two years younger.

The thought of his daughter made him pause. _I hope they're alright_. Tom probably wouldn't be going home this time in port. There was no-one there anyway. His family was staying with his dad in the north of the state. He hoped he could get a message to them, but he needed to sort out the docking of Solace and the decentralisation of the scientists and their laboratory. Then he had to sort out some aircraft to distribute the Cure. And then he had to whistle up some SAMs and anti-aircraft guns. And then he had to rustle up some personnel to protect the scientists. And only then could he take some time for himself. They were supposed to head to DC and Baltimore after this and hopefully he'd be able to get to them on that leg of the trip. He fingered the bracelet Ash had made for him. _Please be OK._

He had wondered if there'd be anyone in Norfolk. They'd put the call out for pilots and personnel on the radios as they'd approached land. _One question answered at least_. "There's a SEAL on the tower." The man signalled with a lamp. He nodded to the signaller stood beside him "signal back." He looked at Mike, "OK, let's get her docked and then you can go and find Christine."

* * *

"Off you go," he told the group of his officers, "and good luck." They had docked safely in Norfolk at Pier Two, the same pier they'd left from all those months ago. He was surprised that there were so many ships here actually. There were at least two Arleigh Burke class destroyers, sister ships to Nathan James, a Nimitz-class aircraft carrier and a Wasp class amphibious assault ship. At least if they could get the manpower together they should have a navy to come back to. He wondered what the state of the other bases on the eastern seaboard was? Something else to look into.

Mike had organised four land parties which would push into the city and surrounding suburbs. Mike was heading north to Deer Park, which was where his family had gone a few months ago. Foster and Green would take the centre and south of town, Garnett would take the west and Barker and Gator would take the east.

They all braced to attention briefly and then departed. He turned to Rachel, who had been standing on her crutches, off to the side of the boarding ramp. She was talking softly to Kara Foster but they finished up their conversation quickly. Rachel wished her good luck and squeezed her hand and Foster left, walking towards Green and their waiting truck.

Green had spoken with Lieutenant Damon, the Navy SEAL who had been in the tower on their arrival. He had provided some additional manpower for the search teams, but also for the teams that would be working at the base under Tom's command. Officers were going to be a problem; he only had Granderson, Burk and Chung, as well as the Master Chief, to do what he needed. Granderson and Chung had to stay with the ship. He could use the Master Chief and he hoped that he could press Captain Brits of the Solace, or his First Mate Gonzalez, into action to help.

He looked at Rachel, "Ready to go and set up some labs?" he asked her.

"Ready as ever," she replied. He held out his hand invitingly and she preceded him on her crutches towards a Humvee parked a little distance away, "you know, I was dying to get back to the US," she told him, smiling softly, "but now it feels a bit strange not being on the ship."

"We'll make a sailor of you yet, Rach," he grinned at her.

"So, Tom," she noted, looking round at him as they made their slow progress, "we talked about other people's families but how come you're not going for your family? Don't they live here?"

He looked at her sadly. "Normally they do," he told her, "but I got a message to say that they'd moved to my Dad's place which is right up in the north of the state to the northwest of DC. It's sort of equidistant between DC and Baltimore. It's a couple hundred miles from here. We're heading up there after Norfolk, so I'm hoping I'll be able to make contact then."

She stopped and looked at him sadly, "Hopefully you can see them then, but you can still call them now can't you Tom?"

"I'm going to be too busy Rachel, there's a lot to do."

She got a stubborn look on her face and he swore she might stamp her feet. "Thomas Chandler," she told him. "The crew has downtime here. You have as much right as anyone else to use the radio room and take some time to reach out to your family." As he went to object, she lifted her crutch threateningly, "Don't make me hit you Tom!" she told him, smiling. She carried on seriously, "You carry responsibility for everybody every day Tom. You have the right to reach out to your loved ones the same way they do."

"It's not that Rachel, it's that I don't have time." He tried to justify.

"I don't agree," she told him, "make time. That's an order Captain." He was hard-pressed not to smile. Nobody else talked to him like this. "We're here for three days. You can delegate some of these roles. Hell, Burk can help Connie and I set up the labs if you don't have time." She reached up to touch his shoulder, her eyes very caring. "Take some time for yourself Tom. Please."

He stared into her eyes for what seemed like ages but all that was there was support and understanding, "Aye Aye Doctor," he replied.

"Good," she told him, quirking a smile, "Glad you still have a fine understanding of the tactical realities!"

* * *

 **14 December 2014**

"So, if we rule out the fast movers Captain, we've got a C-2A and two Hercules ready to go. If we take the two fast-mover pilots we could probably crew an additional Greyhound, but it'll take us a couple of days to get her all fixed up." Lieutenant Commander Tony Rogerson was a flight engineering officer who had been on leave from USS Abraham Lincoln when the virus struck. He'd been staying with a friend on the outskirts of town and had made it to a safe zone but, on hearing about the Cure and the call for pilots and flight engineering crews, had headed back into town.

"So what sort of range are we talking about Commander?" Rachel asked. They were standing in a hangar at Chambers Field, NAS Norfolk. There was a Grumman Greyhound being pored over by 3-4 mechanics. Outside a Hercules was being fuelled on the tarmac.

"The Greyhounds, about 1500 miles ma'am, and the Hercules just under 2500 miles," replied Rogerson.

"So, we can cover the whole country with the Hercules?" she asked excitedly.

"We should be able to ma'am. If we can refuel at the destination," he replied politely. He had originally been a bit wary around the civilian scientist, but on hearing from one of the Nathan James crew that she was the person who'd invented the cure he had become a lot more respectful.

"What are you thinking Doctor?" Tom asked.

"I was thinking that if we immunise the flight crews that gives us a start on the vaccinations. They'll be in contact with the crews on the ground at their destination, which saves on our supplies initially. We give each plane 100 doses for now. As we crank up production from the labs, and hopefully add some more labs, we can give more, but 100 should be a good starting amount. What do you think Captain?"

"Sounds great," he told her. And it was. And it was also great to see her enthusiasm. Since they had landed in Norfolk and started working on the cure dispersal it was like she'd got a second wind. She was spending a lot of time with Connie Hu and the two of them were a force to be reckoned with. Having a friend here was making her more relaxed and he felt that he might finally be seeing the real Rachel Scott.

"We'll need to ask the people who are injected to travel as much as possible in their area. And perhaps ask everyone who receives the cure to make sure they visit a couple of other towns to make sure we get enough critical mass. What do you think Captain?"

"Critical mass, Doctor?" he asked cheekily, "I thought it was called something else?"

She glared at him playfully, "Did we not learn our lesson, Captain?"

The commander was following their byplay a bit bemusedly so, with regret, he brought the conversation back on track, "Old argument, Commander. Ignore us. I think that should work. Maybe we should get a leaflet typed up and our people can distribute that on the ground. Can you do that Doc?"

"Yes, good idea," she replied, all business again, "when can we start the flights, Commander?"

"We could send three flights within the next four hours ma'am," he replied, "four every other day within a few days and, if you can get me some more pilots, two to three per day by the end of the week."

They shared a triumphant smile, "OK, let's target population centres where we might have military resources to start with." He told them, "Let's do San Diego, Mayport/Jacksonville and Wright Patterson AFB/Columbus. We need to build up as much military manpower as we can to spread the cure. Once we've got the infrastructure in place to support the virus-relief flights we can get out to more civilian centres and Doctor Hu and her people can start to co-ordinate that. Good work Commander! Carry on."

"Aye sir," the man replied and rushed off to start carrying out his orders.

Tom looked at Rachel concernedly. There were tears in her eyes. "Are you OK?" he asked her.

"Just can't believe it's really happening," she told him, scrubbing at her eyes. "All the worry, all the work, all the pain, and finally we're going to make a difference."

She looked so forlorn and he gently laid a hand on her shoulder. "You've already made a difference," he told her, "60 cities and counting. Thousands of people already cured. And thousands more to come."

"I'm sorry," she told him through her tears, "it's just…to actually be here, to see it happening. It's just so much more real." She controlled herself and pulled back, looking up at him with moist eyes, "thanks Tom, you'll never know how much your support means to me."

"I think I do Rachel," he smiled at her affectionately, "after all, we're both in this together aren't we?"

Later, as they stood on Nathan James' deck and the crew cheered as the planes took off above them, they both had tears in their eyes.

* * *

"This is Tom Chandler calling Jed Chandler in Clearwater, Virginia."

It was about the twentieth time he'd made the call and so far, no answer. _Please answer._ It was late in the evening and it had been quite a day. They'd finished setting a second lab up on shore and his people had managed to get the radar, computers, CIWS and surface-to-air missile systems energised on some of the moored ships so that Solace and the decentralised lab would have some protection from missiles.

They had found about 200 military personnel in the city so far, including about 20 SEALs and various other special ops people. In fact, they'd decided to embark a few on Nathan James to beef up their Tac Teams. They'd added an Australian SCPO who was also an SF medic, and an Israeli Lieutenant who was also an EOD specialist. It added some good experience to their group. He'd asked Damon to set up security teams for the labs and he was happy that that was now under control. He thought the labs were now about as safe as he could make them.

Tomorrow afternoon they'd move further north. They needed to send a helo to DC to check out the presidential compound and they should send a team to Quantico to check out Marine country and see if there were any survivors there. Then they would head to Baltimore and he hoped to have the chance to go and look for his family.

He had promised the crew that they'd stop in at Norfolk for a couple of days over Christmas and that would be a difficult holiday for some. He hurt for those of his crew who had had bad news in Norfolk. About 60% of those who had family here had reported bad news. Some had died at home, some in safe zones which had been penetrated, some had simply disappeared. Andrea Garnett had lost her husband and daughter. He had gone to see her when she returned on board. Barker had lost his wife and daughter and that visit had been just as tough. He didn't know the man as well as Andrea, but he really felt for him. Unfortunately, the story had been repeated in one way or another throughout the ship.

There had been a few success stories though. Foster had found her mother and he had heard her excitedly telling Lieutenant Green that she was even sober. And, most importantly from his point of view, Mike had found his family, and they were alive.

He and Rachel were having dinner in his wardroom this evening when there had been a knock on the door. He had called "Enter," and a blond whirlwind had run in shouting "Uncle Tom! Uncle Tom!" Mike had checked in the previous night from Deer Park, so he had already heard the good news and he had told him to take his family back home and get them re-settled. He hadn't expected this, and he just managed to get his chair back from the table before Hannah crashed into him.

Rachel had looked on amusedly as he had hugged the little girl and told her, "Hi Hannah," as her sister had also entered the room, only a touch more sedately and also threw herself at him for a hug. He was talking to the little girls when a female voice had said loudly, "Oh _MY GOD_. You're her, aren't you?"

He'd looked up worriedly to see Christine Slattery paused inside the entrance, staring at Rachel, while a very amused Mike stood in the doorway. Rachel had sat gaping like a fish, "Uh," she'd managed. The girls swung around, "Who Mommy?" as they also noticed Rachel in the room.

Christine had now gathered herself a little and advanced round the table towards Rachel, who he could see still wasn't sure what to do. "You _are_ her, aren't you?" she asked more quietly.

"Er, who?" asked Rachel, looking between Mike and his wife.

"You're Doctor Rachel Scott, aren't you?" asked Christine, coming to a halt in front of Rachel as she clambered to her feet and tried to get her crutches in order.

"Oh, er, yes… Yes, I am," Rachel had confessed, sending a quizzical glance at him.

Both of them were shocked as Christine threw her arms around Rachel, "Thank you. Thank you so much for our lives." This behaviour was much more demonstrative than the Christine Slattery he knew, but he was pleased on Rachel's behalf. Rachel tentatively raised her arms into the hug but he began to get a bit anxious as he saw her shift uncomfortably and remembered that her ribs were still a bit painful.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Christine had cried, backing up, "Mike said you'd been injured. I'm sorry if I hurt you. I just wanted to thank you. Are you OK?"

It had calmed down after that. Christine had introduced the girls to Rachel as the woman who saved their lives and Rachel had denied it strongly, stating that it was a team effort, which Mike and Tom had both refuted. She had been a big hit with the girls, especially after she carefully knelt down to put herself on the girls' level, speaking to them very sweetly. Christine had greeted Tom, but hadn't asked after Darien and the kids. He was kind of grateful for that. They had spent a bit of time catching up and then Mike had taken his family home, leaving he and Rachel to relax for a few minutes.

They had talked in broad terms about their plans for the next few days then she had risen, bid him good night and told him she hoped he'd go and call his family. Which was why he was here now, repeating his call.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. It was Foster. "Sir! Sir! Sorry to disturb you, but a man's just come in from Baltimore and you have to hear his story!"

* * *

 _A/N Mike is one of my favourite characters so I thought he deserved to find his family. Unfortunately others couldn't be so lucky. Hmmm, I wonder what they'll find in Baltimore?!_


	20. Returning: Chapter 5

_I do not own The Last Ship_

 **Part 3: Chapter 5**

 **14 December 2014 (continued)**

 _Suddenly there was a knock at the door. It was Foster. "Sir! Sir! Sorry to disturb you, but a man's just come in from Baltimore and you have to hear his story!"_

She led him off the ship and over to the dock security office. Inside was a man clad in winter clothes, waiting patiently. He was guarded by two SEALs. He was average build, had obviously been heavyset once, but was now much thinner, with his clothes seeming too big for his current size. He had had black hair but now it was mostly grey. He stood as Tom entered.

"Captain Chandler, thank you for coming. My name's Gary Woakes. I'm a retired police detective from Baltimore. But before that I was in the Navy for 20 years. My colleagues asked me to come to make contact with you because we need your help in Baltimore."

Tom eyed the man. There was something about him that said "truthful" to Tom. He was normally a good reader of people, but he wished Mike was here. He'd definitely pass him by Mike once the XO got back in the morning. As a former detective himself Mike had a finely tuned bullshit detector.

He nodded, "OK, Mr Woakes. Why don't you take a seat and tell me all about what's going on in Baltimore."

The man replied, "Thank you Captain. Have you ever heard of a politician called Amy Granderson?"

There was a sharp intake of breath from Lieutenant Foster behind him. He twisted round in his chair, "Is that Lieutenant Granderson's mother?" he asked.

Foster looked like someone had kicked her dog. She obviously knew more about this story than him, which was beginning to piss him off. "Yes sir," she replied, "Oh my God. I'm sorry sir, Mr Woakes didn't name names."

Collecting himself he looked back at Woakes, "So the answer to your question, Mr Woakes, is that no I hadn't but she is the mother of one of my officers."

The man looked downright scared, "Erm, in that case Captain, I'm not sure being here is such a good idea."

He looked steadily at the man, "Unless you have broken the law Mr Woakes, I think you're in about the best place you can be in, and I can assure you that Lieutenant Granderson has my complete trust. She is an officer of the United States Navy, and one of the best young officers I've served with." He paused, "Now I think it's time you told me your story since I seem to be the only one here who _doesn't_ know it."

The man stared at him for a few seconds, obviously making a decision, "OK Captain, we'll do it your way. After all, we do need some help."

* * *

 **15 December 2014**

 _Oh God_ , Tom thought, _it never rains but it pours_. It was 06.00 on the day they were due to leave Norfolk and he hadn't got much sleep. Woakes' story had been horrific. He didn't know what Granderson was like before the Red Flu, and he never would, but how anybody could pretend to have a cure in order to draw infected people to their city in order to burn their bodies to provide power for her little Utopia just beggared belief.

But what to do about it? And, more importantly, what to do about Lieutenant Granderson? He had finally concluded that he must ask Alisha to sit this one out. The trick of command was never to give people orders they couldn't obey and he had no wish to force the woman to choose between her duty to the Navy and her mother. Had it been a normal mission then maybe so, but given what they'd all endured over the past six months, and that her mother might very well be her only living relative, he didn't feel that he could put her into a situation where she'd be forced to choose between them.

And if he was offloading Granderson, then he really needed to offload Rachel. If they were going into a situation where Nathan James might be actively engaged then he had no business taking a civilian with them. Luckily Rachel now had a friend at Norfolk in Connie Hu, so it wasn't like he was chucking her out on her own and Major Etherington would also be with her.

He had reached these conclusions at about 3am, but sleep still eluded him. If he was honest with himself, the failure to contact his family was weighing on him as well. He knew his Dad had that radio set. Why weren't they monitoring? He prayed, not for the first time, that they were well. He missed them and hoped to spend the holidays with them. He also wanted to introduce Rachel to them.

 _When did that happen?_ he wondered. When had he started to think of Rachel as someone who he would like to introduce to his family? _Probably around the time you got to know her as a person_. But when was that? He had felt like he knew her after reading her journals. He had admired her courage on the Vyerni. He had enjoyed talking to her in Portsmouth. He had been prepared to consider her a friend when they had that conversation in Medbay. So it wasn't at any one time; it was cumulative. Perhaps when she told him to take time for himself, that had been the tipping point? Perhaps when she teased him. Few people took the time to look beyond the Captain's rank and realise the cost of his responsibility, but she had. She had made things easier, lightened his burden. More importantly, she had cared.

* * *

"No way Tom!" Her vehement reaction was unexpected. He had laid out all of his reasons for leaving her behind, but she had refused in no uncertain terms.

"Rachel, we could be taking the ship into danger. It's no place for a civilian," he tried to reason with her.

"Oh, because of course I've never been in danger before?!" she shot at him sarcastically.

"Rachel," he tried another tack, "We have to pretend that we don't know anything is amiss with Granderson. That means letting her people on the ship. They'll see you and they'll realise that you're a potential prize for them. I don't know if we can protect you."

"I'm sure you can Tom. I have total faith in your people."

"But I need my SpecOps people on shore and to defend Nathan James," he tried.

"Are you saying I might be a burden? I would look at me as an asset. After all, how many medical doctors with trauma experience do you carry?" she asked triumphantly.

"Excuse me?" Where was she going with this?

"If there is potential for injuries as you seem to be intimating, why wouldn't you want to carry an additional medic? After all Rios is an excellent medic but he's not an MD. I am. I have trauma experience in some of the worst environments known. So I don't understand why you wouldn't want the best care for your crew Tom?" He stared at her. This woman was dangerous. And she knew all the right levers to pull with him. He would have happily offloaded her, but she went and brought up the responsibility to his crew card. She had him and she knew it. But that didn't mean he was going down without a fight.

"Where and what type of trauma experience?"

"Well," she told him, "I did a year in a trauma ward in Mogadishu in the 90s. And I've worked for Doctors Without Borders in some of my vacations to keep my skills current. DRC, Mexico, Colombia." She raised an eyebrow at him, "Good enough for you, Captain?"

He stared at her, trying to make a decision. There was no denying she had the skills to help if she was needed. But if he gave in to her he would be nought from two. Granderson had already refused to be offloaded as well. She had told him that she wasn't particularly close to her mother and she took an oath to the US Navy. It was an admirable stance and he hoped it didn't come around to bite her in the ass.

"OK Rachel, you can stay. But don't make me regret this."

She smiled tightly at him, "I'll try. Besides, someone needs to be here to keep you in line." She winked at him. _Cheeky cow._

* * *

They were on their way. It would only be a short trip to Baltimore. Because of the appeal for help he'd decided to drop their trip to Quantico for another time, but they would still take the helo to Washington DC to evacuate the Presidential compound (if anyone was left) and because it would give good cover for them to get their tactical teams onto the ground so that they could get to Baltimore by car. Green would be in charge of those teams since it would look strange if the CO or the XO were missing when they met Amy Granderson.

Green's orders were to commandeer vehicles and drive up with Woakes (who had passed Mike's questioning as well) to make contact with his leader Thorwald. They would then be in a position to attack Granderson's operations from a different direction to any that she might have expected. Green also had secret orders from him just in case it was found that it was actually Woakes/Thorwald that was lying. He hoped that wouldn't be the case, but they had to have a plan in case it was.

For now, he was sitting in the Mess Hall with Rachel and a number of the off-duty crew. He wasn't sure what was going on, but the Brits had called this morning and suggested they listen to 198kHz at 1pm their time. 198kHz was the BBC World Service but since it had been silent for months he wasn't sure what to expect.

It was 1pm on the dot when the speakers crackled. There was a sigh of anticipation in the room and then a very British female voice announced, "This is the BBC World Service on Monday 15 December 2014. This bulletin will repeat every hour on the hour."

There was a pause and everyone looked at each other, a quick cheer went up as people realised that this was the first move to restore civilisation.

The voice continued, "We are sorry for the breakdown in service, but following the invention of a cure for the virus known as the Red Flu by Dr Rachel Scott of the Center for Disease Control, and its delivery to the United Kingdom by the crew of the USS Nathan James, we are now working to re-establish worldwide communications infrastructure and distribute the Cure." There were cheers as Nathan James' role was acknowledged. He looked at Rachel who looked mortified to be singled out. _That is so like her_ , he thought amusedly.

"Since its arrival in the United Kingdom on 1 December 2014, the Cure has been distributed within the United Kingdom, to seven cities in the United States and a further 50 cities around the world. The Cure comes in two forms; it may be injected but it has also been designed to be airborne and can be passed from person to person by simple touch. The Cure is contagious for a period of five days." Rachel was nodding her head, obviously pleased with this approach to informing the public.

"We encourage people to head for the cities where the cure is being delivered if they are able, so that they can be cured as quickly as possible.

"Please be aware that due to security concerns we are prepared to share the destinations of flights to the eastern hemisphere ahead of time but cannot for the western hemisphere in order to safeguard our meagre resource of planes and pilots. Destinations will be announced after the plane has already left.

"All should be aware that there is a cult of people immune to the virus operating in the area of the Atlantic Basin. Unfortunately, these people are in possession of a nuclear submarine with intercontinental missiles. They have already attacked, with varying degrees of success, laboratories seeking to find or manufacture a cure in the United States, United Kingdom and mainland Europe, and they are responsible for an attack on Heathrow airport, our main distribution centre for virus-relief flights. If anybody has any information on the whereabouts of these groups they should use the contact details provided at the end of this report.

"Further flights will be taking off in coming days and the USS Nathan James will be visiting cities on the east coast of the United States.

"If you are in a small group of people, we recommend visiting a city on the relief list. If you are in a larger group of people please contact us using the contact details provided at the end of this report and we will seek to verify your details and tell you the best way to access the cure.

"Cities visited in the last three days include: Toronto, Phoenix, Helsinki, Tokyo, New Delhi, Kuala Lumpur, Milan, Prague, Istanbul, Barcelona, Bordeaux, Vilnius and Riga.

"We will be flying to Sydney, Singapore and Nairobi within the next two days."

It had then gone on to list a phone number, email address and radio frequency to make contact. The voice cut off and then the British national anthem played, followed by a piece of music that he didn't recognise, and then it went into what was obviously a pre-prepared list. Everybody was talking loudly, excited by the development, but Rachel was looking up at the speaker, her head cocked and looking troubled.

"Is everything OK Rachel?" he asked.

She looked at him quickly and smiled sadly, "Oh, OK Captain," she said but as he raised his eyebrows at her she continued sadly, "It was just the national anthem. It was "God Save the King". All my life it's been God Save the Queen. I guess she's gone for good. It seems crazy to mourn one woman when so many people have died. I've never met her, but she's been my monarch for my whole life. I respected her I suppose."

He smiled at her. He was used to it. How it caught you by surprise, thinking about people you'd never see again. "I understand," he told her, "it's difficult to believe sometimes that they're all gone. Your Queen, my sixth grade schoolteacher, your favourite actor, my favourite baseball player…"

She smiled sadly but then made a visible effort to buck up, looking at the excited conversations going on around them, "Still, it's a move in the right direction isn't it?"

Yes, it was.

* * *

Kara hadn't had the best 24 hours. Firstly the arrival of the man from Baltimore last night while she was on-watch, then the revelations about Alisha's mother. Alisha had been really depressed since her conversation with the Captain. She'd tried to reassure her friend and she knew Rachel had as well. They had all three been at lunch when Alisha had told them that the Captain had tried to persuade her to stay behind. She had told them that she'd chosen her shipmates over her mother since her mother had repeatedly chosen her career over her daughter for most of the past 25 years. She could tell Alisha was hurt by the situation though.

Rachel had chimed in to say that the Captain had tried to persuade her to stay behind as well. Apparently she'd told him to "stick it". Kara would have liked to be a fly on the wall during that conversation! Alisha had been reassured that she hadn't been the only one singled out which was, presumably, why Rachel had mentioned it.

While the reestablishment of the BBC World Service, if only in cut down form, had been a high, and the mention of Nathan James a nice touch, there was one more thing that was worrying her. She had felt a bit off in Norfolk, but she'd put that down to nervous excitement about firstly looking for her Mom and then finding her. But since she'd got back on the ship she'd felt a niggling nausea in the pit of her stomach and she'd almost been sick this morning. If it carried on she'd have to ask Rios, or maybe it would be better to see Rachel? She was apparently a medical doctor after all and she might have a better idea about what was wrong. Yes, if she was still ill after Baltimore she'd ask Rachel.

* * *

 _This is gross_. Unfortunately, there was now no doubt that what Woakes, and then Thorwald, had told them was true. He was standing in the undergrowth just outside the perimeter of Amy Granderson's notional coal-fired power station, which was actually fired by carbon of a different sort. Danny had seen lots of disgusting things, of which the sight of the victims of red flu and also Rachel's abused body when they had gone to rescue her from Vyerni were notable low-points, but the sight of the trucks bringing the bodies of dead infected people into the power station and the conveyor belt carrying the bodies into the furnace had really freaked him out.

One of Thorwald's contacts had managed to smuggle them into the power station, dressed in yellow NBC suits. It was like something out of the second world war. He hadn't wanted to stay too long to see what was going on. The only positive about being in the NBC suits was that you couldn't smell anything.

So that sorted that in Danny's view. He had felt at the beginning that Woakes was trustworthy and he'd got good vibes off Thorwald as well. To be honest the way that they'd seen to the distribution of the cure had quickly endeared them to Danny. They'd brought 100 vials with them from Nathan James and Thorwald hadn't wasted any on him or his cronies; he'd given the shots to people in his organisation who'd be most likely to come into contact with others; the co-ordinators and guards on the safe zones. And, once the Scott Effect had been explained to him (Danny smiled internally whenever that name was mentioned since he knew that Rachel totally hated it) he'd conserved at least 50% of the doses for further distribution. The injectees had then been encouraged to circulate as widely as possible, including within Thorwald's command group. Thorwald had estimated that they had at least 1800 people in the various safe zones that his group controlled across the suburbs and Granderson had a further 200-300 people. But he also noted that 40-50 people were coming in every day with the virus, hoping for medical help and now they could give it. He believed that they would easily reach critical mass in Baltimore and its suburbs. Danny hoped he was right.

Nathan James had arrived at Baltimore about two hours ago. He had discussed with Thorwald and it was agreed that he and his unit would get in position to assault Granderson's headquarters at the Avocet building if necessary, while some bodies would be allocated to relieve Nathan James if assistance was requested.

They were just about to leave to move to their positions now. Hopefully they wouldn't be needed.

* * *

 _Well, we should know soon_ , Tom thought to himself as the black SUVs drew up to the pier where he and Tiger team waited, weapons out and in defensive positions around the dock. _I wish we had some of those SAS troopers_. With the arrival of Wolf and Bivas they had more SpecOps bodies but not really as many as he'd like for this task. Wolf, Ethan and SEAL-Mike had joined Green and four sailors for their part of the mission. Tex was with Tom and his team, and Bivas and Burk had remained aboard Nathan James.

The good news, if there was any in this clusterfuck, was that he hadn't heard from Green which hopefully meant that Woakes was above board. Unfortunately, that meant that Granderson was as bent as a hairpin. He felt for his lieutenant. He genuinely liked Granderson. She was a good kid, good at her job and loyal to a fault. _Why do shitty things always happen to good people?_ He mused. He'd had to bring her with him on shore because Granderson senior had requested it. She would have smelt a rat if he'd left Alisha behind.

He hoped everything was OK with Green's team. The man was very competent. He had to trust that if there were any issues, he would have got a message out. Everything in DC had gone as expected. They had collected a lot of hard drives from the building and he was hopeful they'd find some useful information there once they'd analysed everything. After they had cleared out the White House compound Vulture team had left in a couple of cars and they'd returned to Nathan James by chopper.

The SUVs drew up in front of them and a middle-aged man clambered out of the front one wearing a state trooper's uniform and carrying a gas mask in one hand. He held up his hands in the face of the armed sailors and introduced himself.

"Lieutenant Pete Norris of the Maryland State Police, with a few surviving troopers." Then he moved to put his mask on.

"Commander Tom Chandler, CO Nathan James," he introduced himself, "Lt Alisha Granderson," he noted, nodding at her. "You won't need your mask – we're not sick."

"Welcome Captain," said the man, "you really have the cure?"

"Yes," he confirmed, "I don't know if you've listened to the BBC World Service, but the cure was developed a few weeks ago and has begun to be distributed by air globally." He resolved to make no reference to Rachel, in case they hadn't heard of her. "It comes in injectable form but once a person has been injected, they're then able to transmit the cure by breathing or touching someone for a period of five days."

The man was flummoxed. He obviously hadn't heard about it, and Tom could almost see the wheels spinning in his head. _Yeah, not controllable is it? You can't withhold it to blackmail people and can't restrict its impact. Bang goes your little cottage industry._ He realised how clever Rachel had been to make it this way. _I wonder how she did it?_ It was well past time for that debrief now.

"Oh, er, that's great," the man finally commented, obviously thinking he needed to say something, "can we get some?"

"Sure," replied Tom easily, "but we'd like to understand what's been going on here in Baltimore, and there's someone who's keen to see their Mom," he observed, nodding slightly to Granderson.

"Oh, yes," said the man, obviously still off-balance, "let's get you to headquarters and we can sort things out there. And in the mean-time maybe I and some of my people can go to your ship and start getting inoculated?"

"Great," replied Tom, "let me just update my ship." He turned a bit to the side, "Nathan James, Tiger team, over?"

"Nathan James," came Mike's reply.

"As expected, going to the headquarters. Lieutenant Norris and some of his team are coming to Nathan James to get inoculated. Check in in one hour," he transmitted. This was an agreed code to tell Mike that the situation was so far in line with how they'd been briefed.

"Acknowledged," came back Mike's voice. When they'd been gaming this, they'd assumed that if Granderson's people were bent then they'd probably move on Nathan James while Tom's party was in transit or just after they'd arrived at their base, then they would be able to present Tom with a fait accompli.

He and his team got into the SUVs and he surreptitiously checked his hip-holstered pistol.

* * *

As they drove through the streets Tom closely observed what was happening. He hadn't got on shore in Norfolk beyond the dock compound and he hadn't been outside the White House compound in DC. This was the first time that he had seen post-plague America. And he didn't particularly like what he saw. People searching in dumpsters for food. Dead and dying people lying on the streets. People huddled round burning wood and cargo containers trying to keep warm. People moving around with anything they could find to cover their faces; surgical masks, dust masks and a few gas masks. A great country reduced to desperation. The lack of hope on people's faces was particularly disturbing.

They disembarked at a fairly nondescript building guarded by machine-gun nests and barbed wire. _Looks like they're ready to fight off a siege_ , he thought. As they were guided into and through the building he heard his radio, which he'd been monitoring, cut off. He and Tex exchanged significant looks. _They're jamming us. It's starting. I hope my crew are OK._

They arrived at a conference room where they were met by a flunky, "Captain Chandler, welcome," she greeted, "unfortunately Mrs Granderson was just called into an emergency. She sends her apologies and asks that you and your team make yourselves comfortable and she'll be with you as soon as possible." They all exchanged significant glance as the flunky made herself scarce. Now they just had to wait.

* * *

It was no more than 30 minutes later when a call came across their radios and probably all other radios in the city. It blew right through the jamming.

"Amy Granderson, this is Commander Michael Slattery of the United States Navy. Your attempt to unlawfully seize the USS Nathan James to prevent the distribution of the cure for the red flu in Baltimore has failed. I now call on you to surrender your forces and face justice. If you do not respond within 10 minutes, we will assume you are an enemy of the United States and respond accordingly. I urge you to stand down your forces. Those serving Ms Granderson are urged to lay down their arms or be subject to the full force of the United States Navy."

He nodded at Tex and his team, "OK, we go now. Check outside." He looked at Granderson as Tex quietly and slowly pulled the door open. He knew the lieutenant had been hoping that this wouldn't come to pass, "you OK LT?"

"Yes sir," she replied giving an unhappy smile which he returned.

"All clear," Tex noted quietly.

"OK, let's go," he commanded, "Tex and Miller have point, Cruz you have the rear." With that his team moved outside the conference room and crept up the corridor. As they did so, the sound of running feet came towards them from down the corridor. It was as expected; Granderson realised that she could use them as hostages against Mike. He motioned his team to find cover and defensive positions.

Three or four running bodies stormed down the corridor. Seeing his team, they drew their weapons, "US Navy, put down your weapons!" he yelled. He had to try, but he didn't expect it to work and, as expected, they opened fire. Everyone on his team was trained in boarding operations except Granderson and it showed. She was hit in the abdomen as he pushed her down. He nailed the trooper who had fired while his team made short work of the ambushers.

An explosion shook the building and a call from Green came on their radios. "Vulture team, breaching now."

"Affirmative," he replied, "Tiger team has been in contact and has one injury. We're on the third floor north. Can you send a guide to link up with us so we can medevac and then we can continue to the objectives?"

"Acknowledged," came Green's reply, "guides on their way. Wolf as well. We are proceeding to primary objectives."

"Nathan James, Tiger team," he radioed, "Sitrep?"

"Under control, Tiger team," replied Mike, "eight injured, no fatalities on our side. Six killed and twelve injured on their side."

"Acknowledged," he replied. He looked at Granderson. Cruz was trying his best to stem the bleeding but there was a lot of blood. "Hold on lieutenant," he told her.

"I'm sorry sir," she groaned, looking down.

"Lieutenant Granderson," he told her, "we don't decide who our parents are. We choose how we live our own lives and you are one of the most honorable people I know. You're one of our family now and we'll take care of you."

"Thank you sir," she spluttered, shocked.

He gripped her shoulder as Tex observed, "That was real soulful Commodore."

Just then there was a clatter of feet and Wolf's unmistakeable Australian twang, "Guides are here!"

"Clear," he called, and Wolf came around the corner, followed by two women and another man covering their rear. The Australian went over to look at Granderson's injury.

"Captain," called the Australian, "We need to get her to a doc ASAP. Helen here will take her back if we could have a couple of bodies for protection?"

Tom detailed Miller and Cruz and then the party split up, one of the guides going with Granderson' party and the rest with him, as they set off to join up with Green's and Thorwald's parties and find Amy Granderson.

They found her on the roof. They had had a few more contacts on the way up, but aside from a couple of flesh wounds from glass and a ricochet, they had no injuries. State troopers and assorted security guards were just no match for special forces and sailors trained by special forces.

As they came upon Granderson she was shouting to her henchmen, "Where is Norris?"

"Norris is dead or captured by now," Tom called as he and Tex moved into the open, Wolf and Thorwald's guide fanning out behind them and keeping their guns trained on Granderson and her two guards. The two guards swung their weapons up but they were outnumbered and they knew it, "Do you want to be the last to die for a lost cause?" Tom asked them. Clearly the answer was "no" because they immediately lowered their weapons, moved away from Granderson and placed them on the floor.

He looked at Granderson, "You know it's over," he told her, "we know about what you've been doing, we know about the killing zone at Olympia."

"How?" she gasped.

He looked at her mildly, "It doesn't matter. As far as I can see, you have two choices; a trial or a funeral."

"You have no right to judge me Captain," she sneered, "you weren't here. You don't know what it was like. There was no plan here. I built this out of nothing."

"What right did you have to choose who lives and who dies?" he spat, "how can you justify saving your chosen few and murdering the rest? This panacea of yours is built on lies. We had the cure but you still wouldn't stop. You tried to hijack my ship to prevent us spreading the cure. Desperate to protect this lie you've built. Your daughter is a wonderful person and you're a murderer. You disgust me!"

She stared at him, met his eyes, and he could see the hatred in her stare. "It's over," he told her, "your grand social experiment. I'm offering you the chance to surrender with honor."

"Then what?" she sneered, "who's going to judge me? Who's qualified to judge me?"

"Pick up the radio," he grated at her, "stand down your troopers, shut down Olympia, and come peacefully."

She picked up the radio and held it to her mouth, "This is-, this is Amy Granderson. Stand down. Cease and desist all operations at Olympia. I repeat – stand down." Dropping the radio, she looked at him truculently, "There. I did it, but I can't see justice in my future.

"You know, when we were developing the treatment for Olympia, Dr Hamada assured me that the cocktail provided a quick and painless death. I insisted on it." Then she pulled a needle from her breast pocket and, before anyone could do anything, injected herself in the neck with it.

Tom looked at her as she collapsed. It seemed she was right. She died very quickly. He supposed it was easier this way, particularly for Alisha.

"Well, she was a fruit loop," Tex observed. He couldn't help but agree.

* * *

 **16 December 2014**

"Danny, we got a situation. We need you!" Danny looked up from where he was talking to Woakes and Wolf about Cure distribution channels. It was the day after the night before. Baltimore was free of Amy Granderson for the first time in six months. He had returned to Nathan James last night, before coming back on shore to work with Thorwald's people in the early hours.

The ship had been pasted and Rios had been among the injured, but Rachel Scott had stepped into the breach and proved her worth. She and Nicky Etherington had taken over the Medbay and between them performed miracles. Rachel was the only reason that Commander Barker was alive, if Kara was to be believed, and he had no reason to doubt her. And she hadn't just treated the Nathan James crew, she had also taken care of the attackers as well. At least three of them owed their lives to her now. He supposed that meant they owed her their lives twice over!

She was dying to come over to the city and see the cure being administered but she was too busy on the ship. Kara had been visiting Alisha in the Hangar Bay, which had been converted into an emergency Medbay, when he got back to the ship, so he had accompanied the Captain down there.

He smiled at the memory. Rachel had been tending to one of the injured attackers when they had walked in. She had looked tired but strangely invigorated as well. Her T-shirt was stained with blood and other fluids and she was wearing blue plastic gloves, also bloody.

"Doctor Scott," the Captain had called.

"Captain," she had acknowledged, still bent over the injured man, "give me a minute." He had walked over while Danny peeled off to visit with Alisha and Kara. He communicated to Kara with his eyes, raising his eyebrows in question. They had perfected a lot of nonverbal communication over the months as they sought to hide their relationship. She smiled at him and nodded minutely that she was OK, but then indicated with her head that she was watching Rachel, so he turned to look as well.

Rachel had straightened up, feeling up her back as though in pain. Immediately the Captain was solicitous. "Do you need to sit down, Rachel?" he asked her.

"No Captain, I'll be OK," she replied, grabbing up a crutch and using it to support her leg as she hobbled towards him. "I suppose you'd like an update on your crew?"

"Yes please," he'd told her.

"Fine," she'd told him, "and then you can have your slice of humble pie!"

He'd winced. "I'd wondered when that would come up," he observed, wryly.

"Oh, far be it from me Captain, my Captain, to mention how you wanted to leave Nicky and I behind and then to point out that if you had done, your crew would have been royally FUCKED!" she'd observed pointedly.

"Quite Doctor," he'd told her. "What would you like me to say? You were right, and I was wrong?"

"Well, that would be a good start," she observed pointedly.

"OK. You were right, and I was wrong." He told her. Danny was surprised. He'd never seen the Captain back down like that. Although maybe Rachel's previous retaliation had scared him. Mind you, the Captain didn't scare easily. So maybe he was just thankful she was there to help his crew.

"Why thank you Captain," she'd replied with a toothy grin. Then it faded, and she was all business and Danny was reminded of the Rachel Scott he'd known in the Arctic, "OK, Simmonds is the worst. He took a string of gunshot wounds across the chest. His lung is pierced as is his peritoneal cavity. I've done my best, but he needs a hospital and a surgical team. Barker is next worst. He also has abdominal wounds…" and she'd rolled off the exact medical conditions of all eight of Nathan James' injured crew and the worst injuries among the attackers.

He'd looked at Kara in shock. "It seems our friend is multi-talented," she whispered to him, "she's a medical doctor as well as a virologist and she has trauma experience. Captain wanted to beach her ahead of this mission, but she talked him out of it. Good thing too. She's already operated on Alisha. With Rios injured I don't know if she would have made it otherwise."

"How is Alisha?" he asked, looking down at Kara's best friend, who looked wan and ill.

"Rachel says it's difficult to tell with gut wounds. It all depends if she gets an infection, but Rachel's done all she can to fix her up."

That had been last night. They had moved back on shore early this morning to work on the unwinding of Granderson's legacy and to help co-ordinate the dissemination of the cure, and now Helen, one of Thorwald's key lieutenants was calling him.

"What's up Helen?" he asked.

"I need you to come quickly. We've just had some new arrivals and I need you to see them."

"O-kay," he told her, "why me?"

"You'll see," she told him, leading him to one of the outer rooms in the building, "they came in this morning. They were stopped by one of our security cordons. We used to have to chase people away but now we have the cure we can take them in. There are three of them – a man and two kids." She opened the door.

As she had said, there were three people in the room. They all showed signs of the virus and the two kids were stretched out on the sofa. The man, who looked to be in his sixties, rose unsteadily as Danny went into the room.

His eyes lit up as he saw Danny's uniform. "Are you Navy?" he asked.

"Yes sir," replied Danny, puzzled, "USS Nathan James."

The man smiled sadly down at the kids, tears in his eyes, "I knew he'd come." Then he looked directly at Danny, "my name's Jed Chandler. My son is called Tom. Commander Tom Chandler, United States Navy."

* * *

 _A/N Despite the fact this is a really long chapter, I decided not to chop it in half because I think it flows better like this. This is the longest chapter in the fic so far. I hope you enjoy it!_


	21. Returning: Chapter 6

_I do not own The Last Ship_

 **Part 3: Chapter 6**

 _The man smiled sadly down at the kids, "I knew he'd come." Then he looked directly at Danny, "my name's Jed Chandler. My son is called Tom. Commander Tom Chandler, United States Navy."_

 **16 December 2014 (continued)**

"Tom?" his Dad's voice was weak, but oh so welcome. The call from Green had come in while he had been at the Avocet building, working with Thorwald to try and untangle Granderson's web of treachery. They'd never be able to get a track of all the people she'd had killed but they had been able to capture a lot of her henchmen and lieutenants, particularly the dreaded Doctor Hamada, who was a very unpleasant piece of work indeed. All of them would go on trial, many for crimes against humanity.

"Captain?" Green's voice had been brittle – a mixture between excited and defeated. "We need you at Thorwald's HQ as quickly as possible."

He had asked what was up, but Green had replied that he needed to tell him in person. He'd been tempted to tell him to wait, but he respected Green and this degree of uncertainty was unlike the man.

It had only taken ten minutes to drive across the city and Green had met him at the entrance.

"Captain," he had said, "there's no easy way to say this. Your father and your children are inside."

 _His father and his children. Why not Darien?_ He looked at Green. To his credit, the man looked distraught, "I'm sorry sir."

 _Oh my God. No, not Darien._ He crumbled to his knees. _So near, and yet so far._ Green pulled him up, "I'm sorry sir, let's get you to them."

He was grateful to the man for helping him, although an irrational part of his mind hated him as the bearer of bad news. But Green had done everything right. He'd kept the news off the radio and allowed Tom to have a private reunion and process the news himself. "Thank you, Danny," he told the man.

Danny had given a sad smile, "I'm sorry for your loss, sir," he had told him before showing him into a room.

His father was sitting on a chair, the kids lying down. They both looked up when his dad said his name, "Daddy!" It tore his heart that his kids were too ill to get up. He rushed over to hug them.

"I'm here Ash," he told his daughter, hugging her. "I'm here Sammy," he told his son as he wrapped him up. "I love you both so much." He looked at his father and went to hug him, "I love you too Dad," he told him, "Darien?"

"I'm sorry Tom," his Dad told him without letting go of him. "She wandered to Plainview a few days ago, without telling me, to gather supplies. We think she was exposed there. She brought it back with her. When I realised we were getting sick we decided to head into the City. We'd heard whispers that they had a cure here at some place called Olympia.

"Imagine my surprise when we were stopped by a road block this morning and the guys told us that Nathan James had found the cure. I knew you'd come back for us Tom, I knew you wouldn't give up. I'm so proud of you," his father told him.

"But Dad, Darien?" he asked.

"She died just before we got to the city." His father replied, "I'm so sorry son. I tried everything I could to save her. But she just couldn't hold on. I'm sorry." His father tailed off, breaking into tears.

He hugged his father tightly, crying tears of his own, "I know you did Pop. You did a great job. You saved the kids. I know you tried real hard. I just wasn't quick enough."

"Don't put this on yourself Tommy," his dad told him, "you've brought the cure. They were all talking about it this morning, about how Nathan James had brought the cure. I'm so proud of you son. I didn't tell you that enough growing up, but I really am."

"But I wasn't fast enough for Darien."

"That wasn't your fault," his father told him, "we got careless, we got greedy for supplies. We let our guard down."

They both became conscious that the kids were crying so Tom pulled them into a hug. He wept tears of joy that his kids and his Dad were OK and tears of sorrow that his beloved wife wasn't.

* * *

It was later that day. Tom had contacted Mike and asked him to take over the work at Granderson's base. He'd had to tell Mike what had happened, and his XO had offered his condolences for his loss. The kids were better but not well. Tom wanted to get them on Nathan James as soon as possible. There was only one doctor he'd trust to look after his family now and she was there, not here. And with her current workload there was no way he either could, or would, ask her to leave the ship.

The kids were awake, but not really chatty, and his father had just come back from grabbing a coffee.

"What's this Scott Effect that everyone's talking about?" his father asked.

"It's the effect of critical mass and the contagious cure Dad. You need over 2,000 people in a population centre to be infected with the contagious cure for it to get enough critical mass to spread," he explained, "it's named after the British scientist who discovered the cure, Dr Rachel Scott."

"Now there's a woman I'd like to meet," his father observed, "was she working on Nathan James?"

"Well, she was originally but then she got kidnapped by the Russians…"

"The Russians!"

"Yep."

"I think there's a story in there, Tom?" his father observed.

He smiled wryly, "Yes, but maybe for another time," he told Jed, looking pointedly at Sam and Ashley.

"Oh?" his Dad was never quick on the uptake.

"Let's just say that there was a price to pay for inventing the cure," he told his father guardedly.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," his Dad seemed to have finally got the message, "but she's alive?"

"Yes, slightly the worse for wear, but alive."

"Well, if I ever meet her, I'm gonna give her the biggest kiss ever!" his Dad boasted.

"That can be arranged," he muttered sotto voce. He'd love to see Rachel's face.

"What was that Tommy?"

"Just that I think she's a bit young for you Dad," he told him. It didn't matter how old you got; the thought of your Dad kissing was still gross.

"Oh ho Tommy, young and pretty is she?" Oh no, he'd let his guard down and now his Dad was going to tease him. At least he was obviously feeling better.

"Yes, Dad, she is," he couldn't help the defensive tone that came into his voice.

"Well-" his father visibly caught himself and thankfully re-thought what he was going to say. His Dad was always teasing him about women but luckily he seemed to realise that now was certainly not the time. He smiled at his son sadly, "well I pray for the chance to thank her personally."

He smiled back at his Dad, knowing their meeting would be a lot sooner than he thought. "I'm sure you'll get the chance to thank her one day Dad."

* * *

 _Ding! Ding!_ "Nathan James. Arriving." He helped his kids over the railing and nodded to acknowledge the salutes of the deck party. Jeter was there to meet him as Mike was still on shore.

"Captain," the man said, smiling sadly, "Welcome back. I was very sorry to hear about your wife."

"Thanks Russ," he smiled sadly back at the man. He'd accepted Darien's death but he hadn't processed it yet. "How are things here?"

"Lieutenant Foster has the conn sir. She's doing real well. She's just in Engineering but she'll be back up to report to you in a few minutes."

"Where's ChEng?" he asked, slightly worried. He knew Barker was injured but hadn't heard anything about Garnett being injured.

"She's onshore with Commander Slattery sir. They're trying to get a couple of generators working."

He supposed that did leave Foster as the senior officer. While Burk and her were of similar seniority she was command track and as a CIC officer she was probably better placed for command. He was happy with Mike's decision. He smiled at Russ, "Thanks Russ."

The man smiled back at him, nodded to his Dad and then knelt down to talk to Ashley and Sammy, "Glad to see you two," he told them, as they came in for a hug, "I'm sorry about your Mom." They hugged him back. Uncle Russ was a firm favourite from their visits to the ship over the years.

Looking at Russ he told him, "I'm going to take them to my cabin. I'll move into my sea cabin for the rest of the trip. Could you ask Rachel if she'd come to give them the once over when she's free?"

The Master Chief smiled at him, "Aye aye, Captain."

* * *

Rachel knocked on the door of the Captain's cabin. It was all through the ship that the Captain had found his father and kids, but his wife had died.

Master Chief Jeter had come down to the hangar bay to ask if she could have a look at the Captain's family. She'd been having a well-deserved rest at the time. She clearly wasn't back to full fitness yet because she'd really struggled over the past two days. In the old days of medical training and work she'd easily managed to work 48 hours continuously, and when she'd been working on the vaccine she'd managed four months of 18-20 hour days. But she'd collapsed in a heap after eight hours yesterday. Nicky Etherington had told her she had to take more regular breaks since she was still healing, and she'd been right. She could only do eight hours on a roll before she needed to take a few hours off. Luckily Nicky was able to monitor the injured and there were medical auxiliaries there to help as well. Rios had picked up a head injury and it would be at least another 72 hours before he would be up and about.

She didn't know how urgent the call was, so she hadn't bothered to change out of her blood-stained clothes, but she had put a plastic apron on to hide them as much as possible. She had an MD bag with her. As she'd limped through the ship on her crutch she'd been reminded of that character in the TV program "er" which she'd loved in the 90s. _Wrong hair colour_ , she thought tiredly.

Tom opened the door. He looked her up and down concernedly, "Rachel, thanks for coming, though you could've had a rest."

She smiled at him tiredly, "I'm all out of sarcastic retorts Tom, but I'll work on one for tomorrow."

He gave her a lopsided smile, "I'll look forward to that. Come on in."

She walked in to see an old man and a young girl sitting on the sofa and a young boy lying on the bed. They all bore signs of the Red Flu and looked exhausted and emotionally wrung out.

"My dad, Jed; Ashley and Sam," he introduced, then, "they've all had the cure this morning but Sammy in particular's not doing so well." Then he smiled at his father, "this one's for you Dad!"

She smiled at all of them, wondering what he was up to and introduced herself, "Hi all of you. My name's Doctor Rachel Scott, but you should just call me Rachel."

There was a gasp from Tom's Dad, who looked piercingly at Tom, then back at her, "The Doctor Rachel Scott who discovered the cure?" he asked her.

"The one and only," Tom smiled, "over to you Dad!"

She looked between them. "Would someone like to fill me in on what's so exciting?" she enquired acerbically.

Tom looked at her and she could see his amusement, even as he tried to cope with his grief, "Oh nothing much Rachel, it's just that my Dad reckoned if he ever met you, he was gonna kiss you! And I wondered if he'd do it!"

She glared at him. Part of her was pleased that he was able to have a joke given his news but the other part of her was pissed off with him. Given that there were kids present she couldn't say what she might've said had they been in private, so she decided to yank his chain instead, "Well, given that he's such a good-looking man, I'm sure I'd be very happy to share a kiss with him, _once he's had a shave!_ "

Jed chuckled at his son who looked like he'd swallowed a lemon, "I like her Tommy, great taste in men as well!" He turned to her and smiled, "I will have a shave straightaway madam," and he doffed an imaginary hat, "well-played!"

"Well," she observed, nodding at Tom, "we need to keep him in line. Wouldn't want him getting a big head." They both laughed while the object of their mirth pursed his lips. Figuring that she'd taken it about as far as she could, she knelt down next to his son who was clearly the most ill, and said, "Now, is it OK if I call you Sam?" When the boy nodded, she carried on, "and I'm Rachel of course. I'm going to do a few tests on you and then we'll figure out how we can make you feel better."

* * *

There was a knock at the door. It was late, and he had retired to his sea cabin for some sleep. Mike was back on board and had taken over command, telling Tom to take care of his family and himself. He would have preferred to keep busy and he would have if not for the kids. But having lost Darien, they needed as much support from him as he could provide.

He had been really impressed with Rachel's bedside manner. After his annoyance about her turning the joke around onto him had abated, he had observed her with his kids and even with his old man. Despite obviously being shattered, she had been warm and patient and ever-so supportive of his kids. She had given Sammy some paracetamol to bring his temperature down, and prescribed bedrest for all three of them. Then she had taken her leave, after he thanked her for her time.

He walked over to the door and opened it. It was Rachel. He was surprised. "Come in," he bid her and she hobbled in, using just the one crutch. "Is everything OK with the wounded?" he asked. She was showered and wearing clean clothes and looked better, if still shattered. There were dark shadows under her eyes.

"No, everything's fine. I wanted to see you." She told him. She looked at him concernedly. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," he replied.

"Oh Tom," she exclaimed, "what happened to being friends and sharing with each other?" She was staring deep into his eyes. "You can't be fine after everything that's happened." She looked down, and then, obviously gathering courage, she looked up, "would you like to talk about it?"

"Honestly I'm fine Rachel. I have to take care of the kids," he told her. He wasn't fine, but he couldn't deal with that now. He had responsibilities.

"So, are you saying you don't want to be my friend any more?" she asked, downcast.

"No, I'm not saying that at all!" he told her fiercely, not understanding why she was asking.

She looked him straight in the eye. "Friends talk to each other when they need it. You told me that Tom. You _taught_ me that. You need it Tom, whether you're willing to admit it or not. I'm not in your chain of command. There's no lèse-majesté here. You were there for me. Now I want to be there for you." She sat down on his sofa with a deep sigh, stretching her legs. "I'm staying here until you start talking to me Thomas Chandler."

He stared at her. He knew she was just as stubborn as he was, and he knew she _would_ stay on the sofa until he talked to her. And the truth was, he did want to talk about things. He was just a bit caught out. He had expected to be the one giving support in their friendship, not the other way around. He smiled at her fragile-y. She was right though. "Thanks Rachel. I do need to talk about it. It's just I'm struggling to cope with the fact that we were so close to getting here in time, but we just missed out…"

Their conversation went deep into the night. He talked about Darien and their marriage, how they met and how they fell in love. He talked about his family and the kids and how it worked. For the most part she listened, but she also reassured him when she thought he needed it. And in the wee small hours, after she left, he did feel more relaxed and he drifted off to sleep easily. And as he drifted off to sleep, he thought _how lucky am I to have a friend like Rachel Scott_.

* * *

 **19 December 2014**

Thank God it was finally time to leave Baltimore. Rachel was more than happy to head back to Norfolk. Baltimore was not a nice place to be. Sure, the disgusting smell of burned bodies was fading from the air, and people walking around the streets looked less lost. She'd journeyed ashore a few times. First to do the medical handover with the doctors who would tend to the wounded attackers when they were ferried ashore three days ago. She was glad to get them off her hands. Some of the injuries had been severe and it was good to hand them off to other doctors.

The Nathan James injured had also thinned out a bit. She only had the four serious cases to worry about now, having discharged the others to bedrest and regular checks. Which meant she had more time on her hands. She'd taken enormous pleasure in prescribing Rios bedrest and forbidding him to take any medical responsibility for the next two days. When he'd objected she'd smirked at him and told him "payback's a bitch isn't it!" He'd grinned back at her and flicked his hand in salute, telling her "Aye aye, doctor."

She was keeping the three very serious cases unconscious for now; the soul exception being Alisha Granderson who, thankfully, didn't seem to have an infection. She should take about a week to get back on her feet. Physically that was. Mentally she was still a work in progress. The woman was still reeling from what her mother had done in Baltimore. Rachel had tried to reassure her by telling her about her hatred for her father. Master Chief Jeter had been in to counsel her, Kara and Danny had been in regularly, and even the Captain had come. Rachel knew from her own experience that it would take a while. It would help for her to go back on duty. Being a doctor again and having a role on the ship had helped Rachel immeasurably.

She'd spent a fair amount of time with Tom's family. Tom had had to go over to the city a fair amount, working with Thorwald and his people to ensure the re-establishment of infrastructure and rule of law, but he had proclaimed that work over, and announced that they would be heading home today. They would send the chopper to Annapolis, Alexandria, Quantico, Salisbury and Richmond on their way back to propagate the cure, meaning their journey would take a bit longer, but they would be back in Norfolk on 21 December and Tom had decreed that the crew would have five days of leave before they embarked on the next stage of their mission, that of distributing the cure up and down the eastern seaboard.

Dinner with Tom was becoming a regular part of her day even before they'd arrived at Baltimore. She hadn't gone the day after he got back, assuming he'd rather spend the time on his own with his family, until he'd turned up at the MedBay to collect her. Since then, dinner and early evening had become a time for them all to hang out. After dinner they would talk and play games and then once the kids were put to bed she would stay and talk with Jed and Tom and sometimes, if Tom wanted to talk on his own, he would seek her out. She was very happy that she was able to repay some of the people who'd supported her through her tough times. First Alisha and now Tom.

She quirked a smile. And it looked like she'd be helping Kara as well. Kara had sought her out this morning. She hadn't seen too much of Kara or Danny in the past few days, except in the Medbay when they came to visit Alisha. Everyone had been really busy and, with Barker's injury, Kara was holding down CIC on her own.

She'd looked up when Kara walked in, "Morning Kara," she'd greeted her, "here to see Alisha?"

The woman had looked at her, "Actually Rachel, I wondered if I could chat to you about a medical issue briefly?"

She'd been surprised. Kara was looking tired but then they all looked tired after the past few days. "Sure, take a seat," she'd told her, closing the door to the corridor and the one to the Medbay, "what's on your mind?"

"Erm..." it seemed Kara was nervous, "I've been feeling really nauseous for the past week or so."

"Ah," said Rachel, just to give her time to think and get her primary care hat on, "and have you vomited?"

"Yes," Kara replied, "the nausea started in Norfolk when we got home and I thought it was nervousness but then it's been worse since I came back. And I have vomited a few times."

Rachel thought a bit, "And was there any blood in your vomit?" she asked.

"Not that I could see," replied Kara.

"And when you go to the loo, is there any blood in your urine or stool?" she asked.

"Again, I haven't seen any."

Rachel thought about it. Kara was a friend, but she'd come with a professional query. "OK, strip to your underwear and hop up on the bed. I need to give you a physical examination."

Kara looked at her askance as she pulled the curtains around the small bed, "Can't you just give me some anti-nausea medication?" she asked.

Rachel smiled at her, "I could, but only when I have a general idea of what's causing the sickness and nothing you've told me so far really narrows it down. I mean, I've pretty much eliminated an ulcer, but that's about it. Now trust me, I'm a doctor!" she joked, "Call me when you're ready."

She went over to get her examination tools ready while Kara went behind the curtains to undress.

"Ready," she called eventually.

Luckily there was no embarrassment. Kara was used to medical examinations and Rachel had had plenty of experience of being a doctor in the past week. She was able to easily see Kara as just another patient.

Rachel was about halfway through her physical examination when she heard it. She had placed the stethoscope on Kara's stomach. She thought she heard two heartbeats. It must have been an echo. She re-positioned the stethoscope and tried again. _Nope, there it is_. She smiled internally. _My my, Little Miss Perfect's been a very naughty girl_ , she thought. She needed to keep her poker face intact though, and she went to finish up her physical examination, just to make sure there wasn't anything else wrong.

Afterwards she had invited Kara to put her clothes back on and went to wait for her. "Did you find anything?" Kara asked her.

"Actually I did," she replied, wondering how to break it to her. _Straight is probably best_. She gestured for Kara to sit down.

"There's no easy way to tell you this Kara – you're pregnant." She gave the woman a lopsided grin. She knew it couldn't have been planned, given the fraternisation rules and she hoped it wouldn't affect her friend's career. "I hope it's congratulations."

"Oh my God," unsurprisingly Kara was in shock, "are you sure?"

"Pretty sure love," she told the shocked lieutenant, "the extra heartbeat was a dead giveaway!"

"Oh my God," repeated Kara, "how far along am I?"

This time she did smile, "You tell me love? How many times have you been "fraternising" with Danny?" But she took pity on her friend, who looked mortified, "It's difficult to say without an ultrasound, but I would say around 12 weeks."

Kara was silent for a while, "I suppose that would be about right…Damn. I thought I was fixed."

"What do you think you'll do?" she asked, "I'm here for you if you need me. You know that, don't you?"

Kara smiled gratefully at her, before replying, "I guess I need to tell Danny."

"I guess you do."

"Then we'll decide ourselves. This could be career-limiting," she observed sadly, "but I kind of feel that with all of the deaths, if we have a chance at creating new life, we should take it."

She smiled at Kara. She thought there was a good chance Danny would want to keep the baby as well. And she understood the point about it being career limiting, but she knew Tom had a high degree of respect for Kara and, given that the US Navy currently numbered around 300 people, she felt an exception might be made for her friend. She didn't say anything of this though. She realised Kara was waiting for her to speak and made a non-committal noise. It wasn't for her to influence their decision.

"You won't tell the Captain though, Rachel?" her friend begged.

"You're my patient Kara. You have full confidentiality from me. I will not tell the Captain anything unless your life is in danger. I would urge you to tell him before we put to sea again though."

Kara nodded, "I will." She stood, "Thanks Rachel," and she departed.

 _Boy, I wouldn't want to be in her boat, Rachel thought._

* * *

 _A/N So three sections down, two to go. This story has grown quite a bit since I originally planned it out, but the fifth section will be the last one._


	22. Protecting: Chapter 1

_I do not own The Last Ship_

 **Part 4: Protecting**

 **Chapter 1**

 **23 December 2014**

"Bye Nicky, thanks for everything," Rachel told the woman, hugging her. A British plane, fresh from a virus relief mission in Winnipeg had agreed to stop off at Norfolk to pick up Major Etherington and take her back to the UK.

"You take care of yourself Rachel," she replied, "keep up the exercises and if you have any problems with the leg, call me."

"Yes ma'am!" Rachel barked, with a mock salute.

"Glad there's one officer she listens to!" piped up Tom from beside them, "Maybe you could share how you manage that Major?!"

"Cheeky bugger!" Rachel told him.

"It's really easy Captain," replied the Major, grinning, "she's scared of me. I make her do nasty, uncomfortable things and she doesn't want those repeated."

"No kidding," muttered Rachel.

"Hmm, I'll have to take that under advisement," said Tom giving Rachel a toothy grin.

"Don't you dare Captain Chandler," she told him.

"Oh, formal are we?" They grinned at each other and he turned back to Nicky, "But seriously Major, thank you for everything you've done for Rachel and also for the crew." He told her, meaning after the Baltimore attack, "we owe you a lot."

The woman smiled at him and shook her head, "I don't think so Captain. Rachel invented the cure and you brought it to us. I wouldn't be alive today if it wasn't for both of you or your crew. I will look forward to welcoming you both to the UK whenever you both are ready." Then she nodded, hefted her bag and made for the waiting aircraft.

They waved again to her as she paused on the steps, and then she went inside and they headed back into the main building. It was too chilly outside to be waiting around today.

"Sad to see her go?" Tom asked.

Rachel _was_ a little sad. Nicky had become an important confidante in the past few weeks, but she was needed elsewhere and most of Rachel's rehabilitation from this point on was in her own hands.

"Yes," she replied, "but hopefully we'll meet again. I don't need her rehabilitation services any more so there's no need for her to be here, but I will miss her. It's a bit lonely as the only Brit here."

He turned to her seriously, "I did want to ask you about that actually," he told her, "what are your plans for the holidays?"

She was surprised. She hadn't expected him to ask that. "Oh, er, I don't really have any plans. On the ship I suppose. Maybe spend some time with Connie on Christmas day. It's what we used to do before. One or other of us would cook for the whole group."

"You cook?" he asked, seemingly surprised.

"Always the tone of surprise Tom," she told him, putting on a hurt pout, "I'm quite good actually. My shortbread biscuits are famous in three countries and my chicken with lemon sauce is world famous!"

"Three countries huh?" he queried cheekily.

"Britain, the US and Canada. My former-colleague, Brad, was Canadian and his mum loved them!" she told him haughtily.

"Ah well," he said, focusing himself again, "that feeds in nicely to what I wanted to ask you. We all wondered if you'd like to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with us?"

She was shocked, "Oh Tom, I couldn't," she told him, "you need some family time together, just the four of you."

"All of them asked me Rachel to ask you to join us. Christmas is a time for friends and family. After all, you'd be doing us a favour. I'm not a great cook and neither is Dad," he rushed on, "and we'd love it if Dr Hu wanted to join us for Christmas lunch."

"I don't know what to say Tom, I really don't want to impose." And she didn't. But a part of her really wanted to join them. Danny and Kara were with Kara's mum and Alisha wasn't great company at the moment. Slattery was spending his leave with his family and, truth be told, while she liked Christine, she found the woman's hero worship a bit difficult to take, and Connie was working flat out on virus manufacture and, apparently, shagging Tex in her free time.

He looked at her piercingly, "Rachel, the only imposition will be if you don't stay with us. Besides, I thought you'd like a bit of home comfort after that debriefing from Hell."

She smiled at him sadly. His and Mike's acceptance of what she'd done and the decisions she'd made on Vyerni had been a big relief for her. She'd worried for weeks that when they found out the whole story they'd sling her in the brig and throw away the key. But they'd reassured her that she wasn't an evil person and they'd understood what she'd done and why she'd done it.

In the end she'd asked Nicky to sit in with her for her debriefing. All of them had been shocked when she'd described the first whipping, supportive when she'd described her failures with the vaccine and Ava and Kelly's deaths and understanding of her decision to protect knowledge of the Cure. Their anger had been reserved for her description of Sorenson. But their anger hadn't been directed against her. No, it turned out they thought she'd been too kind to Sorenson.

When she had described the plan to escape, and her thinking behind that, they all said that it was a sound plan. Tom regretted that they'd been delayed; just a day earlier and they could have avoided what came after. Rachel wished for that as well. She had been asked to describe in detailed terms the torture and who had done what. She had struggled and she only got through it because Nicky was squeezing her hand so hard. Focusing on the pain allowed her to be dispassionate about what they'd done to her as they tried to get any information about the Cure from her.

She knew that they were all affected by what they'd heard because they'd all had tears in their eyes afterwards. But she had been very touched when, after she'd told them everything, they had each hugged her and told her that what she had accomplished was amazing.

And now here she was. Even after what she'd told him, he was still happy for her to spend time with his family. Asking her to, even. He looked at her, "Is this about the Vyerni?" he asked her gently.

She nodded. "I can't hug you here, but consider yourself hugged," he looked at her pointedly and she understood that as a US Navy Commander he couldn't touch her in public. She understood that, "But I stand by what I told you last night when we were talking with Dad. When you were on Vyerni, you were in a war. People die in wars. Maybe this example will help you. You're a Brit. You of all people understand what happened at Coventry in World War II. How is that different from what you did?" he looked at her empathically, as though willing her to understand.

She remembered learning about the Coventry air raid in history classes. British codebreakers knew that the raid was coming but couldn't warn people because they couldn't reveal that they'd broken the German codes. That was where the expression "being sent to Coventry" came from. She'd never thought about it before but here was an example of where thousands of lives had been sacrificed to protect the knowledge that the codes had been broken. Exactly what she'd done with the Cure.

She saw Tom was still waiting for an answer. She tried a tentative smile, "I never really thought about it in those terms," she told him, "but thank you, it does help me understand and maybe justify it in my mind." She stopped, reaching a decision. He had asked, and if she was honest with herself she did enjoy spending time with him, Jed and the kids, "And thank you for the invitation as well. I'd be delighted to accept." She made an attempt to smile, feeling better about the whole thing, "And I'll be happy to help out with the cooking. And maybe…maybe if you're a good Captain, I might let you try one of my shortbread biscuits!"

* * *

 **24 December 2014**

"Rachel, are you going to be our new Grandmom?" Sam's question caught her totally unawares and she nearly spat out her tea. It was just after lunch on Christmas Eve and the family was relaxing in the lounge. The kids and her had baked shortbread biscuits this morning as Tom had looked proudly on. It had been a bit of a mess, but the results tasted brilliant, even if they left a bit to be desired on the presentation front!

 _God, kids are amazing_ , she thought, risking a quick glance at Jed, who looked stunned, and Tom who was grinning at her as if to say – now look what you've done! She and Jed had been flirting with each other, trying to get a rise out of Tom, on and off since they'd met. While it had been aimed at Tom, it looked like the kids had picked up on it as well.

She turned to Sam and smiled gently at him, "I don't think so Sam. While your grandfather is a very attractive man, I'm not sure he's the right man for me just at the moment."

Jed coughed slightly, taking over, "What Rachel means Sammy is that she and I are only flirting to tease your Dad. Your Dad made a joke at my expense and Rachel and I are paying him back for that." Here he smiled toothily at Tom, "Rachel's much more your Dad's age than mine."

 _I can't believe he just said that_ , she thought, mentally squirming. _Does he ever think things through? Now we're going to get another question._

And sure enough, it came. "Does that mean Rachel's going to be our new Mom?" Sam tried again.

After glaring at Jed, she got up and went to sit next to Sam. Pulling him into a hug, she also looked at Ashley, "No-one's ever going to replace your Mum, darlings," she told them, "I know it's difficult at the moment, but soon you'll be able to remember all the good times you had with your Mummy and you'll be happy for them." She paused as Ashley moved to snuggle in beside her, and she pulled her into the hug, making eye contact with Tom above their heads. He had tears in his eyes.

She smiled sadly at him, "I haven't told you, but my mum died when I was very young as well. I was about Ashley's age." Tom started, obviously surprised by the information, and she could see the empathy in his eyes, "She died of a horrible disease as well. And I can tell you, it was tough after she died. I had nobody to speak to about her. But you do. You've got your Dad and Grandad and me and Uncle Mike and Aunt Christine and their kids. There are lots of people who want to help you through this, kiddos. The best thing you can do is make sure you remember your Mum. Talk about her, remember the good times, even the bad times if you want. But above all," she told them, conscious of the sobs wracking their small bodies, "remember that your Mummy loved you both more than anything, and while you remember her, she'll never be truly gone. She'll always be in your hearts," she told them tearfully, looking at Tom and trying with her eyes to communicate that it was a lesson for him as well.

The sofa next to her moved and Jed came to join them, "Rachel's very wise kids, and she's right. You should listen to what she's told you. While you remember your Mom, she'll always be a part of you." He put his hand on her shoulder, "Thank you Rachel," he told her.

"Yes, thank you," came Tom's tearful voice from behind her. He put his hand on her other shoulder and squeezed, "thank you for being there for my family and me."

* * *

 **25 December 2014**

Rachel had the radio on while she, Jed and Ashley prepared lunch. The BBC World Service had come on leaps and bounds since the first broadcast and was now providing some live and some canned content. The hourly news recap was still there but so also were music and specific programs. It had been so successful in contributing to morale that there was now talk of launching a US version, to be called "The Voice of America" or some such.

There wasn't very much fresh meat available yet but Jed had taken some of the Nathan James sailors out yesterday to the areas that he had hunted in in the past and found a couple of wild boars which had been split up among the families and crew. Hence they had some pork and they had some fresh potatoes, sweet potatoes and parsnips and she'd managed to find a lot of tinned stuff so she was making pumpkin pie for dessert. She knew it was the wrong time of the year but it was a great festive dish and she thought her Mum's recipe would go down well.

Tom was playing with Sam in the garden and Ashley and Jed were helping her cook when an announcement came on that the King's Speech would air in five minutes.

"Oh my God!" gasped Rachel, stunned.

"What is it?" Jed asked, concerned.

"The King's Speech," she tried to articulate, "It's always been the Queen's Speech in my lifetime. But it airs at 3pm on Christmas Day and it's always a message to the Commonwealth. It's a tradition for many British people. My Dad and Mum always used to listen to it, no matter where we were in the world."

Jed looked at her kindly, "Then we should listen to it too. Leave what you're doing, it can wait." He turned to Ashley, "Ash, go and get Sammy and your Dad and we can listen to it as a family."

"OK Gramps," said the little girl, looking at her concernedly before running off.

"Come on," Jed told her, bringing the radio over to the sofa, "let's take a seat." Tom and the kids rushed back into the house, just as the presenter's voice came on.

"Ladies and Gentleman. Live from Portsmouth. His Majesty, King Henry."

A new voice came over the airwaves then and she realised it was the voice of the man who had formerly been known to the world as Prince Harry.

"This time last year, my beloved grandmother delivered this message from Buckingham Palace in what was the sixty first year of her reign. A year on it is hard to believe that she, and more than eighty per cent of the world's population, are no longer here.

"Like most of you, I have lost a lot of family and friends. My brother and his family, my grandparents, my father, my uncles and aunts, a large proportion of my cousins, and many, many friends.

"Our world has also suffered. My grandmother broadcast the first televised Christmas message in 1957 and it has been televised every year since then. Until then it had always been a radio broadcast. Just like it is today.

"As I sit here in Portsmouth, surrounded by a tiny proportion of my country's previous armed forces and a tiny proportion of my country's previous population, it is difficult not to reflect on all that we have lost.

"But reflecting on what we have lost is not healthy. We must now focus on the future. We must focus on restoring the human race to its previous greatness, we must focus on re-building, we must focus on giving thanks for our deliverance.

"And while we focus on giving thanks, I would like to mention a very important person. A person without whom I would not be here today, and neither would many of you.

"I talk of course, of Doctor Rachel Scott." Rachel twitched. She hated attention being drawn to her. Ashley reached out and held her hand, calming her and preventing her from getting up and leaving, which was what she had been considering doing.

"Many people will have heard of Doctor Scott as the inventor of the Cure for the Red Flu, but what most people do not know is how much hardship Doctor Scott went through to produce the cure. Because Doctor Scott wasn't just sitting in a lab somewhere. Doctor Scott was kidnapped by a warlord intent on controlling the cure. She was badly treated for much of her stay, but she carried on working to develop a cure, despite suffering significant physical hardship.

"Eventually she was successful in developing a cure, but she could not escape. She managed to pass the knowledge of the cure onto the crew of the US warship Nathan James, which safely brought it to the United Kingdom.

"Doctor Scott endured several days more of ill treatment at the hands of her captors and was in a critical condition by the time she was successfully rescued by the crew of the USS Nathan James."

Ashley's hand was squeezing hers so strongly that it hurt, and Sam had scooted next to her and was leaning into her. She was now totally embarrassed and totally trapped.

"And what did Doctor Scott do as soon as she recovered consciousness? She did not wallow in her ill-treatment as many of us are wont to do. No, she requested permission to go back to work to help distribute the cure and that is what she has been doing ever since.

"I tell you this story as an example to all of us. A modern-day parable if you will. Terrible things have happened to us all in the last year, but we should not let them define us. We should follow Doctor Scott's example and try to build a better world.

"And this message goes out to you, Doctor Rachel Scott. We have never met, but I hope one day that we shall. When we do, I shall pass on my thanks and those of a grateful country, a grateful Commonwealth and, indeed, a grateful world."

Rachel teared up as the enormity of what he was saying hit her. She sniffled, struggling to maintain control as Jed and Tom both joined the group hug that the kids had initiated, seeking to give her comfort.

"While we are on the subject of thanks, I would also like to pass on my thanks to Commander Thomas Chandler of the United States Navy and the crew of the USS Nathan James. Without your tenacity in searching for, and eventually finding, Doctor Scott, we would also not have prevailed. We thank you from the bottom of our hearts."

She was pleased that Tom and the Crew had been acknowledged, because they certainly deserved the acknowledgement. Without them, she would be dead.

"Since the Cure arrived on our shores on the first of December, less than four weeks ago, it has been distributed to more than 100 cities in over thirty countries worldwide. Security considerations permitting, we hope to ramp up our relief efforts and have recently added an additional two flight crews to our teams. I would like to thank the Royal Air Force and all those who are working so hard to distribute the Cure.

"To all of you out there who have not received the Cure. Know that we are working as hard as we can to distribute it. We ask that everybody who has received the Cure, and remains contagious, travel as much as possible to pass on the Cure to as many people as possible.

"We must now focus on rebuilding our countries and our shattered lives. Know that the United Kingdom stands with all citizens of humanity and we will continue working to distribute the Cure until the last person has been cured.

"I know that many people continue to endure hardship this Christmas. Whatever your own experiences have been this year, wherever and however you are listening to this message, I wish you a peaceful, and happy, Christmas and let us all pray that by the time I speak to you next year, the Red Flu will be a thing of the past and we will have been able to start building our future."

As the King's dulcet tones receded and a Christmas carol was played, they all continued to cling onto each other.

"How are you doing?" Tom asked her.

"Well," she declared tearfully, "I've found out that it's not possible to die of embarrassment alone," she giggled nervously.

"You shouldn't be embarrassed," Jed told her, "I think I speak for all of us when I say that I'm very proud to know you, and," he added teasingly, perhaps in reaction to the tears that burst out of her, "even prouder to have you as my girlfriend."

She snorted in laughter. The levity had come at just the right time. "In your dreams, old man!" she told him.

"Did you really do all those things, Rachel?" Ashley asked her, finally releasing her hand.

She smiled down at the little girl, "His Highness made it sound more than it was honey."

Tom snorted from where he held Sam, who was staring at her with an admiration she wasn't really comfortable seeing, "Actually Rachel's being very modest, Ash. What she went through was a lot worse than His Highness said,"

"Tom!" she grumped.

"It was," he told her, focusing back on his daughter, "but as His Highness said, she's safe with us and the rest of her friends now and we need to start focusing on the future. We should never forget the past and all the people we loved. Your Mom," here he choked slightly, "Uncle Tim, Aunt Flora….but we have to focus on living our lives as best we can."

Jed nodded slowly, "Agreed. Now, shall we get back to work? I for one am looking forward to tasting Rachel's famous pumpkin pie recipe!"

* * *

 _A/N Sorry that I missed my regular posting day - very busy at work at the moment. Hopefully normal service will be resumed soon._


	23. Protecting: Chapter 2

_I do not own The Last Ship_

 **Part 4: Chapter 2**

 **26 December 2014**

There was a knock at the door and Tom looked up from his work. It was 09.00 on the day after Christmas and Nathan James was set to depart this afternoon on her mission to spread the Cure on the northeast coast. He had thought long and hard over Christmas about whether he could continue on the James. His kids had just gone through a horrific experience and he felt that he needed to be there for him. He'd spoken to his father about it at length, and also to the kids. They'd persuaded him that if he left without finishing the job, he'd regret it for the rest of his life. His Dad had assured him that he could take care of the kids. There were enough support structures in place to help him out and Christine was also there to help share the load. That had been a weight off and had reassured him enough to leave them. Didn't mean he wouldn't miss them though.

They had selected the northeast coast for the first leg of their journey because of the cold winters. It was thought that it would be difficult to find food in the cold, which could result in starvation leading to an accelerated death rate, and therefore they had decided to prioritise the north eastern coastal regions before turning south. It was also an enormously populous part of the country and they hoped to find survivors there, although Rachel had cautioned that the high population density could work against them.

After leaving Norfolk they would pass by Philadelphia, New Jersey and the southern New York suburbs, the city itself, then Connecticut and into New England. Commander Rogerson had come through and they had embarked a second helicopter and its crew to help them maximise their coverage. But God forbid if anything happened to their flight crews because they had been unable to find any more rotary wing pilots so far.

The second helo had necessitated downsizing Rachel's lab but she hadn't minded. She was now occupying a storage space near the mess deck. She didn't have to do too much testing these days, and her responsibilities were more medical at the moment.

Rios was back on the job but not 100%, and so was Granderson. But Barker had remained on the beach. Given his injuries, Rachel had suggested that it could be a matter of weeks until he could come back but it would be relatively easy for him to hitch a lift on a virus-relief flight to get in a position to re-join the ship when he was ready.

Granderson was having a tough time. It wasn't so much the injury as it was the knowledge of what her mother had done. He knew she was convinced that no-one would want anything to do with her now they had found out about that. He knew that Rachel had been working on her, telling her how she felt about her father after her mother's death and he knew that Russ Jeter had been to see her as well. But maybe it was time for a kick up the ass and a salutary lesson about the sins of the father, or the mother in this instance.

He thought his next visitor might be able to help with that, as well as the vacant TAO slot.

"Enter," he called. He was surprised to see Green enter with Lieutenant Foster. "Lieutenant Green, I wasn't expecting you? Lieutenant Foster and I had some ship's business to discuss."

The two lieutenants shared a look and his trouble meter started to go off. _Uh oh_. Foster took the lead. "Uh. I'm sorry Captain," she stuttered, "I asked Danny to join me because I need to tell you something."

"Actually, _we_ need to tell you something," Green interjected.

Now he was worried. He hoped they weren't resigning. They wouldn't be the first but he had hoped that he knew them better than that. "O-kay…" he told them, now a bit nervous, "why don't you both take a seat and tell me."

They sat down next to each other, equally nervously. Foster's right hand twitched as though about to move, but she eventually took a deep breath and started, "Captain, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but I'm pregnant."

He couldn't have been more surprised if Mike and Russ had tap-danced into his office wearing pink tutus! _Pregnant?_ His initial reaction was to congratulate Foster. But then he worked it out. Green was obviously the father and they'd never met before Green came to Nathan James. Looking at Foster there was no way she was more than four months pregnant which meant that they'd been fraternising on Nathan James.

He pursed his lips, looking at both of them. This was going to put him in a difficult position. But he needed to think about it. Foster was turning into a damn fine officer and Green already was. And it wasn't like they had too many of them in what was left of the Navy. He definitely needed to play for time. Read them the riot act now and go and have a detailed think about how to deal with this. Because it potentially left a huge hole in his plans.

He looked at both of them. They both looked nervous. "How far along are you lieutenant?" he asked her.

"A-about 12 weeks sir," she replied trying, not wholly successfully, to meet his eyes.

 _Hmm, September. When we were still in the Arctic_. He made eye contact with both of them. "I would be lying if I didn't say I'm disappointed in both of you," he told them. Green stared straight at him, acknowledging him, while Foster looked down. _She needs to work on her poker face_ , he thought, smiling inside. "I need all of my officers now and I particularly need you lieutenant, with the injury to Commander Barker," he told her.

"Sorry sir," she told him quietly.

"I was about to invite you to be the acting TAO, Lieutenant Foster," he told her, "but given what you've told me, I have to think about it now." She looked disappointed. He could totally understand that. Being TAO of an Arleigh Burke class destroyer was a dream for many officers, "The old rules say you can't be at sea after 20 weeks. There might be some leeway on that given the circumstances." He let them hang for a moment. "You can both come back at 12.00 to hear my decision," he told them.

They both nodded and got up to leave. "Thank you sir," Foster still looked upset.

He cracked a small smile, "And congratulations to both of you," he told them. "If it didn't leave such a hole in my manning plans, I'd be very happy for you!"

 _Well that's a clusterfuck_ , he thought as the door closed. He had had his heart set on having Foster as the acting TAO. He supposed nominally Kirkman could do the job, but Foster was better and more experienced. _Damn._

If she was only 12 weeks pregnant though there was no reason she couldn't do the job. Barker would be back within eight weeks, probably within 4-6 weeks if Rachel was correct, and then he could take over as TAO.

OK, so that worked from a logistics point of view but what sort of message would it send to the crew if he promoted Foster into a position of responsibility when she'd just been caught breaking the rules? And not just breaking them. They'd totally smashed them. It wasn't touching or a few stolen kisses. They'd been having sex on his ship! That was not the sort of example that he wanted to set for the crew. Sure, it was an Apocalypse, but rules were rules.

But was he cutting off his hand to spite his arm? He needed a qualified TAO and Foster was the most qualified one on board. Aagh, he was going round in circles. He needed another perspective.

* * *

"There you go," Rachel said as she placed the steaming mug in front of him, "that'll help you with whatever's wrong. A good cup of tea should help you think. And this is the best tea ever. Camellia sinensis. From my special stores. I don't waste this on anybody Tom. This is the Rolls Royce of teas."

Well with that introduction, he had to try it. He took a sip. Yuck. "You _drink_ that?" He couldn't help it. The stuff was foul!

She looked at him exasperatedly, "No taste," she observed as she shook her head, "Difficult to believe that you're your father's son. He enjoyed it."

"Or at least he was a better actor than me!" he told her, wondering if he'd ever get the taste out of his mouth. "That is _foul_ Rachel!"

"Oi!" she told him, "You can insult an Englishwoman's husband, but never her tea! Particularly when she's gone out of her way to help you," she grumped, "It's a finite supply. I'll probably never find more of it. And I wasted it on you. It's enough to make a grown woman cry."

"OK, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" he told her, hastily backtracking, then pushing it back towards her, "Here - you have it. So it doesn't go to waste."

She cocked her eyebrow at him, "Nearly a good recovery. But not quite. But since you've obviously got things on your mind, I'll push my hurt at your dismissal of my present to the back of my mind and we can come back to it at some other time, so you can beg and make it up to me. What _did_ you want to talk about?"

He regarded her worriedly, "So I'm forgiven?"

"In no way are you forgiven Thomas Chandler," she told him, "but I'm sure you'll make it up to me," she observed, grinning at him rather scarily.

"I'm a little scared Rachel," he told her.

"Oh don't be Tom," she gushed, "this won't be worthy of retaliation…as long as you make it up to me. But it is nice to know that I've got you so well trained," and she winked at him.

"Oh God," he muttered. Now he had two problems when before he'd only had one. _Way to go Tom_.

"Why did you come to see me?" she asked, "Not that it's not lovely that you did, but you must be really busy getting the ship ready to go and I don't normally see you down here during the day."

Back to business. He might as well get something out of this visit. "Well, I wanted to ask your advice. I already spoke to Mike, but I'd like to get your perspective…"

* * *

"Ready?" Danny asked.

"Not really, but go ahead," Kara told him as he squeezed her hand quickly. It was 12.00 on the dot and they were standing outside the Captain's door. It had been a difficult few hours for them. They both had work to do to get the ship ready for sea but for Kara, in particular, it had been rough. To be offered the role of TAO of an Arleigh Burke class destroyer at 29 was a huge professional seal of approval. She had dreamed about that role since she was in her teens. To then be told that you probably wouldn't be offered that role because you broke the rules was a huge slap in the face.

And she deserved it. She _had_ broken the rules. Luckily she hadn't put her shipmates in danger through her relationship with Danny but she could have done. But she'd certainly put her career in danger. And she'd betrayed the Captain's trust. Now she had to face the music.

He knocked on the door and they were told to enter by the Captain. This time the XO was in the room as well. Both of them were stony-faced. _Uh oh_ , she thought, _this doesn't look good_. She wished she could hold Danny's hand as they went over and braced to attention. She wasn't used to being in trouble. She'd always been respectful of the rules until Danny came along. Hardworking and a bit of a teacher's pet. But now all that had changed and she wasn't enjoying it one bit.

"At ease," the Captain told them, gesturing at the sofa across from his desk, "Take a seat." They sat.

The Captain and XO looked at each other and the Captain spoke again. "I've spoken to Commander Slattery about what you told me, because he needed to know." He took a deep breath, looking directly at her. "First of all, I want you to know that I'm deeply disappointed in both of you. You didn't just break the rules. You smashed them," Kara was struggling to meet the Captain's eyes. She knew he was right. "You're both officers in the United States Navy and as officers it's your responsibility to set an example to the crew. What sort of example do you think this sets?" he asked rhetorically.

"Lieutenant Foster?" he prodded.

She struggled to look at him, "A bad one sir." There was no point in beating around the bush,

"You're damn right," he told her, "I'm glad we agree on that." He looked at her curiously, "so what do you think your punishment should be?" he asked her.

"Four weeks port and starboard," she replied, "six and six." The XO looked at the Captain and they seemed to share a look.

"Green?" The Captain questioned.

"The same sir."

The XO raised his eyebrow at the Captain who nodded. "I think two weeks ought to do it," he told them both, "but Green I want you to run self-defence classes for all the non-boarding members of the crew, and Foster I want you to devise and run a training programme for all the JOs from engineering so they know how to run the equipment in CIC. And I want you both to explain to people why your behaviour was unacceptable."

"Aye sir," they both told him. Well, that wasn't as bad as it could have been, although she wasn't looking forward to discussing what they'd done with others. She and Danny would have to discuss what they would say.

But it seemed he wasn't finished. "Foster, I've thought about this a lot. I'm worried that appointing you as TAO sends mixed messages. You broke the rules but you're getting a promotion."

"Yes sir," she said, eyes downcast. _Oh well_ , she thought. It was as close as she'd ever get to her dream. She couldn't see herself ever getting another chance.

"But," he continued, and for the first time his voice was less serious, "I want Nathan James to have the best TAO she can. And that's you, Kara," he said as her head snapped up to look at him. He had a slight smile, "So I've decided to appoint you as Acting TAO until Commander Barker is fit to return." He smiled at her before turning serious, "Do not _under any circumstances_ believe that this is approval for how you've behaved Lieutenants," he told them. "You have the opportunity to make amends and I want the best out of both of you. You owe it to your shipmates."

"Yes Captain," they both told him. Kara couldn't quite believe what had just happened.

"Good," the Captain said, and now he was smiling, "Now that that's over, on behalf of the XO and myself I want to say congratulations to both of you on your pregnancy!" The XO nodded, all smiles, and leaned over to shake her hand, then Danny's.

 _Well that could have gone worse._

* * *

 **27 December 2014**

"Ship's Company. Atten-shun!" Russ intoned as she, Mike and Tom stepped out onto the flight deck. She was careful not to get her crutch tangled in the high coaming. Hopefully she'd be able to get shot of the bloody thing soon!

The off-duty crew was arrayed in lines in front of her. Whereas at gatherings in the past she hadn't known anyone, now she was able to recognise some faces and it made her feel happy. There was Lieutenant Chung from Engineering, who had come up to speak to her on her second day back; Rios, the Nathan James' corpsman, known respectfully as "Doc"; Miller, who Danny had introduced to her as part of his team; Burk standing with Danny, and just behind them Ravit and Wolf who as foreigners sometimes felt as isolated as she did. They'd talked in the gym and in the canteen a few times.

She and Mike stood to Tom's right as he stepped forward to address the crew.

"At ease," he told them, after nodding at Russ.

"As you know, we are now in the mouth of Delaware Bay. Wilmington is less than 50 miles to the north west, as the crow flies, from our current position, and will be the first stop for our teams.

"Most of us went ashore in Norfolk, many of us went ashore in Baltimore. But those cities were both already under some management. The cities that we are going to now may very well not be under any management at all. Even though this is our homeland, I urge you not to think of it as such. As far as we know this is Indian country. If you are on a landing party, speak to those that have moved through the interior previously, like Lieutenant Bivas and Senior Chief Taylor, so that they can tell you what to expect. Keep your wits about you at all times.

"Trust no-one on the ground until they have proved themselves. Imagine if we had gone to Baltimore without knowing the tactical situation in advance? Things may have turned out substantially differently. We must treat every city we land in as potentially a hostile landing zone. This is not the United States we knew before the virus. We must always be aware of that.

"We will use the helos for inland cities and the RHIBs for coastal cities. Each trip we take will carry up to 200 doses of the cure. We will endeavour to make sure that at least 2,000 people receive the contagious cure in each city and town we visit before moving on.

"We will try not to get involved in local politics but we may need to help set up viable command and control before we move on to the next stop on our trip.

"But we must try and move as quickly as possible because Doctor Scott and her team have identified over 20 targets for this leg of our voyage and over 60 targets for the second leg of our trip. We must not get bogged down because there are still many, many people to help, both in our country and our neighbours.

"Make no bones about it. This is going to be a difficult mission for all of us. But this is the best crew I have ever worked with. We were successful in our previous mission and the proof of that is standing behind me," she felt self-conscious as over a hundred eyes swivelled to her, "This mission will be longer, but is no less vital. We have to heal our country and we need to do it as quickly as possible. Every day we delay more people die.

"We will launch our helo and landing party to Wilmington in one hour. And after that we will go to Philly, then to Trenton, Edison, to Newark and then to Manhattan... The list is long, so we better get on with it. Let's do this! Dismissed."

* * *

 _A/N Interesting to contrast Tom's behaviour with Kara after she breaks the rules vs Rachel in the series. Obviously what Kara did was less serious (although she could have infected all of the crew, which would have been serious), but clearly there was a personal aspect to Tom coming down so hard on Rachel that wasn't present with Kara. Anyway, Kara gets away with it again here as well!_


	24. Protecting: Chapter 3

_I do not own The Last Ship_

 **Part 4: Chapter 3**

 **20 January 2015**

"How are you doing Rach?" Kara's concerned eyes met hers as she opened the door of her state room. She smiled tiredly and gestured for her friend to enter, surprised when she was preceded by Halsey and followed by Ravit.

"I hate this fucking disease," she told her friends as she retreated to her position on the bed, back against the wall. As if feeling her pain, Halsey jumped up next to her on the bed and laid down, resting his head on her leg. The others moved to their usual places, Kara stretching out in the desk chair and Ravit sitting on the end of the bed.

She reached out to stroke Halsey's head, grateful that Kara had recognised her pain and brought the dog with her. Unfortunately, this sort of meeting had got to be a regular occurrence during their cruise up the east coast, taking the cure to as many places as possible.

Because post-virus America was horrific. The Red Flu had struck so quickly that local infrastructure had been overwhelmed. Which meant that hospitals, infected safe zones and streets were still filled with people who had fallen where they died. While the current cold weather kept the insects away, it did nothing for birds and scavengers and the site of random body parts spread on the streets had become widespread for the teams that went on shore.

And the survivors often weren't much better. Many had gone feral and the rule of law had broken down in several parts of the country. Sure, most citizens had respected basic social laws and done the best they could, but in their travels the crew had come up against a plethora of wannabe warlords and local rulers who had needed to be dealt with. Luckily no-one had quite been on a par with Amy Granderson as yet.

But the number of dead, and the scarcity of survivors, was difficult to take. They had been to towns where only a few hundred souls survived from populations of fifty or sixty thousand and cities where survivors numbered in the thousands. And what they had seen and experienced had had an impact on them and their crewmates.

Many of the crew came from, or had friends and relatives, in the places they had visited. Generally the news had been distressing; entire families wiped out, or one or two left from families numbering twenty to thirty people. Where families were gone it hadn't been an issue but where people remained, often desperate, needy people, they had ended up losing crewmates. Mike, the contractor they had met at Guantanamo Bay, had remained behind to help care for his sister's children in New York. She and her husband had not made it. Rios, from Alisha's bridge team, had also asked for compassionate leave to care for what was left of her family in New Jersey. All told they had lost five to ten people in the course of their journey. Luckily they had made some of those gaps up from current or former Navy sailors they had met en route who had volunteered, or personnel transfers from Norfolk, but it had been difficult saying goodbye to their colleagues in that way.

She knew Tom had been hopeful of finding significant amounts of survivors at the Naval bases at Groton, CT and Newport, RI and the Air Force bases at Dover, DE and McGuire, NJ, but unfortunately they had not materialised. While a small number of people _had_ survived, it wasn't anything like the numbers that Tom had been hoping for. There were enough to build out their tiny supply of transport aircraft, techs and pilots for virus distribution and to supply some more uniformed bodies for tasks that were needed in Norfolk but they were still a long way away from even having enough trained personnel to launch another Arleigh Burke class destroyer.

She supposed it hadn't been all bad. There were some notable positive surprises in there, like Boston where a sister of the deputy mayor had been a senior member of CDC before retirement and the strategy that they had adopted of quarantines, safe zones and food distribution teams had resulted in only 60% mortality rates for the Boston area. But unfortunately such tales were rare. The number of towns and cities with five or ten per cent survival rates far outnumbered the ones with higher survival rates and it was tough to take. Particularly for Rachel and her security team who were most regularly part of the landing teams.

A great result just last week had been when one of the teams near Springfield MA had made contact with people who had received the contagious cure transmitted person to person from the city of Hartford CT, which they had previously visited on their trip, and Syracuse NY, that had been visited by air. That had raised morale as it showed that their distribution strategy was starting to bear fruit. But the sheer size of North America was working against them and people were still dying while they were trying to disseminate the cure.

And it had been down to earth with a thud as they moved north again. Portland, Maine, where they had been for the past few days, had been another rough one with almost no emergency management, and as a result death rates had been extremely high. Rachel had spent many hours co-ordinating with disparate groups of survivors and trying to put in place some infrastructure for cure dissemination while Tom and Danny had worked with what was left of local government and the National Guard to put some command and control in place.

In contrast, while they had slaved away in Portland, the helo had run up to Saint John, across the border in Canada, and reported reasonable survival rates and a viable local government system in place. They had been sent back with a thank you present for the crew consisting of several large salmon and enough maple syrup to float Nathan James. They had been offered beer from the brewery there but had been forced to turn it down. At least they would all eat well for the next day.

"Good news though," Kara told her as she stretched out. Her bump was starting to show now and CIC shifts were becoming quite tiring for her.

Rachel would miss her when she had to go back on land. And that wouldn't be too far away now. Kara had become a great friend and support for her over the course of the trip. Their group was normally bigger than this, but Alisha and Danny were on duty at the moment.

"Oh?" Rachel asked.

"Captain says we're heading south, and we'll stop in at Norfolk for a few days before heading down to Wilmington. You can have a few days off."

"Thank God." Never had she uttered truer words. She needed a break.

"And we'll be picking up Barker there as well, so I can drop back to my old job," Kara told her with an indecipherable expression.

"Are you sad?" Ravit enquired. Rachel had approached Ravit a few weeks ago in the gym. While she'd been working on her rehab she'd noticed Ravit doing Tai Chi in the gym one day and approached her about joining in. Rachel had done a bit of Tai Chi in Atlanta when she was with CDC. The woman had been happy to work with her and, after she'd seen Ravit wiping the floor with Miller and Cruz while sparring, she'd asked Ravit if she could teach her some self defence as she got better. Again, the Israeli woman had been happy to help and, as they spent more time together, they'd started to develop a friendship. Rachel had been happy to introduce her to her other group of friends and they had all got on well. Ravit had confided that it was good to have some female friends again.

"A bit," Kara told her, "but it's getting so uncomfortable for me to sit still for a whole shift I won't be complaining too much!"

* * *

 **21 January 2015**

"Is this spot taken?" she asked Alisha, who looked up, giving a smile and pushing her tray to one side. They were in the wardroom and it wasn't busy at all.

"Never for you Doc," she answered.

"How are you doing this fine day?" she asked her companion as she sat down.

"Better than a few days ago," Alisha replied. "Glad to be heading back, even if it's only a few days off. You?"

"Me too," sighed Rachel. She was glad to see the newly promoted lieutenant a bit more settled. While it had only taken a few weeks for her to recover from the physical wound she'd suffered in Baltimore, in terms of mental scars she was still a work in progress. Rachel knew all about mental scars and she knew it could take a long time before Alisha would be able to set aside what had happened in Baltimore.

Everybody on Nathan James had already been through such heartbreak but what Alisha had been through she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy. To find your mother, only to discover that she was a mass-murderer and then to lose her before you had a chance to speak to her must have been horrific. While Rachel's feelings for her father were complex, they were nowhere near what Alisha's must be for her mother.

Tom had discussed his "kick up the backside strategy" with her and she was pleased it had worked. She'd wished she could have been a fly on the wall when the party of Tom, the Master Chief and Kara had gone to confer Alisha's promotion on her, but she'd got the lowdown from Kara. Apparently there had been tears, but the result was demonstrable. When she'd been to see Alisha later in the day, the woman had already been sitting up straight, meeting people's eyes and speaking with those in the MedBay.

Like everybody, and Rachel herself, she had good days and bad days, but the sweet, generous and playful Alisha Granderson was coming more to the fore in the past few days. And as far as Rachel was concerned, it was only to the good that Alisha stayed on the ship and didn't have to see what they saw on land.

"What are your plans for when we get back?" Alisha asked, breaking into her train of thought.

"I dunno," she replied, "I'll have to catch up with Connie to discuss the Cure roll out and start planning the next stage of our destinations. And some guy's starting up a new radio station and he's asked me for an interview."

"Phew, sucks to be you Rach!" laughed Alisha, "You _will_ put your feet up for some of the time won't you?"

She smiled at the young woman, "You know me. I'm not that good at putting my feet up!" she told her.

"We'd noticed that Rach, don't think we hadn't!" grinned Alisha, "But I'm serious. All work and no play is bad for you. I wouldn't want to have to tell Ravit on you…"

"You don't fight fair," she grumped, "I shouldn't have introduced you two!" But she was pleased she had. The Israeli had a really naughty sense of humour but she was a realist and her outlook on life had really drawn Alisha back out of shell. She tried to explain to her friend, "It's just that there's so much to do. So many people to help."

"Of course there are Rach," her friend told her, "but you've helped so many already and it's not just up to you. You can't do everything. Grab your rest while you can. You never know when the world's gonna go to shit again and you'll be happy you rested. Trust me, if I've learnt anything from being in the Navy it's that."

"That's unusually profound for you!" she teased.

"Hey! I can do profound. Why don't people think I can do profound?" Alisha retorted.

"Because you're usually as shallow as a very shallow thing?" Kara reached over her shoulder and snagged a handful of French fries.

"I resent that implication. Some friends you two are. And give me back those fries you stole!"

"Hey, they're not for me," Kara replied, grinning at her friend, "they're for your Godson! I would've thought you would be happy to give him a present? I hope this isn't the sign of things to come?! I might have to pick another Godmother for him! One who's slightly more generous!"

Rachel giggled at the exchange. Kara was putting on weight quite rapidly now and was awful for nicking all their food. It was Alisha's fault for not guarding her fries. Alisha replied indignantly, "Hey, I'm generous. At least I will be when he's not a blob."

"Are you calling my son a Blob?" Kara drew herself up to her full height.

"Yeah, what are you gonna do about it?" came Alisha's answer.

"This!" came the reply as Kara stole another fistful of fries and stuffed them in her mouth.

Rachel shook her head, "Children!".

* * *

 **22 January 2015**

There was demonstrable excitement in the Mess Hall. Not only should they be at Norfolk within a few hours, but also today they were making another giant leap towards re-establishing some type of normality. Today, as he had been a few weeks ago, Tom was waiting with his passengers and his crew for a radio announcement, but this time was different. This time it was closer to home.

"Ladies and Gentleman, This is the Voice of America, broadcasting from Norfolk Virginia. Home of the United States Navy!" Given that the United States Navy had precisely one ship and her home port was Norfolk, he supposed that was true.

There was a cheer, quickly silenced as everyone waited for the next announcement.

"I'm Miguel Hernandez bringing you this special report. US Navy Command Norfolk has taken over responsibility for all virus-relief flights in North and Central America and is working with the Center for Disease Control to distribute the Cure. Between virus-relief flights and visits by the USS Nathan James, delivering the Cure, over 120 towns and cities have now received the Cure which was developed by Dr Rachel Scott of the Center for Disease Control.

"We give thanks to our friends in the United Kingdom who had previously been helping with distribution of the Cure and had arranged flights to a further 20 cities in North America.

"We are receiving reports from up and down the north part of the eastern seaboard where the USS Nathan James has been making visits to coastal towns and cities. She will be heading south of Norfolk over the next few days. While mortality rates in some areas have been high, there have been some good news stories as well. Here is Claire Allan with a special report from Boston where mortality rates were some of the lowest in the country…"

* * *

"DADDEEEEE!" Well, someone was pleased to see him.

He bent down as Sam shot out of the front of the house, and pulled his son into a hug. Ashley was only slightly behind the young boy and also pinned her father in a hug.

"I'm so pleased to see you guys," he told them, "I missed you so much." His Dad was at the front door, smiling and he gestured him over, "Don't I get a hug Dad?" he asked.

His Dad and he hadn't been much for personal displays of affection before the virus but Armageddon changed you and his Dad had been fantastic for him, protecting his kids, providing a shoulder to cry on and a real support at Christmas. He had wondered to his Dad whether he should resign his commission and stay with the kids, but his father had convinced him not to. He had said that he needed to see this through and that if he resigned and something didn't work out he'd always regret it. It had been good advice.

The older man smiled brightly and came over to hug him. "Welcome home Tommy," he said, "I'm real proud of you. 120 towns and cities; thousands of people saved. You did that you know." His dad had never been this demonstrative in the past. Maybe Armageddon had changed _him_ too. It meant a lot to hear him say it. "Now come in. I made some dinner. Are you staying with us tonight or do you need to head back to the ship?"

"You know it wasn't just me Dad. Rachel had quite a lot to do with it." His Dad shrugged, not fazed at all by his denial, so he carried on, "I need to head back tonight," he told his family, but as his children looked downhearted, he added, "but I should be able to get back tomorrow afternoon and I can stay here tomorrow night," he finished.

"Yay!" his son cheered.

"I don't suppose you'll be bringing my girlfriend with you tomorrow will you Tommy?" his Dad enquired cheekily.

"Dad! I thought we'd got over that," he exclaimed.

"Oh right, she's _your_ girlfriend!" his Dad laughed.

He shook his head in exasperation as Ashley piped up, "Is Aunt Rachel coming tomorrow then?"

He shot his father a glare before he turned to his hopeful-looking kids, "I haven't asked her honey. I think she's got a lot to do this time in port," he noted their downcast expressions, particularly his daughter, "But if you want her to come, I can ask her for dinner tomorrow?"

"Yes please, Daddy." He knew that Ashley and Rachel had struck up a good friendship over Christmas and it was good for his daughter to have a female role model.

"I can't guarantee she'll be able to make it, but I _will_ ask," he told his kids.

"Can we visit tomorrow Dad?" asked Sam.

"We might be able to arrange that Sammy, if you both want to?" he asked Ashley.

"Yes please Dad,"

He grinned at his father, "What do you think?"

His father returned the grin, "I think for a special occasion like this we could manage."

The kids both agreed, excited to be visiting the ship. "Will we see Uncle Russ and Uncle Mike?"

He smiled at their excitement, "I think that could be arranged…"


	25. Protecting: Interlude

_I do not own The Last Ship_

 **Protecting: Interlude**

 **30 January 2015**

"Welcome to this Voice of America special report. I'm Miguel Hernandez and last week I was lucky enough to spend time with Dr Rachel Scott of the CDC and I was able to find out a little of the background behind how she was able to find the Cure and, more importantly, what it cost. Ladies and Gentlemen, parts of this report may be unsuitable for children.

"Dr Scott, it is an honour to meet you and I'd like to thank you for agreeing to do this interview."

"Oh, it's a pleasure Mr Hernandez. It's very important that we communicate to people how to pass on the Cure. Please – if you are listening to this – there are so few of us left – it's important that as many are saved as possible. If you are contagious with the Cure, we ask that you make the effort to come into contact with as many people as possible. Please take the time to travel to the next village or town from you and try and cure as many people as you can. You will be contagious for five days after you receive the Cure and you can pass it along by shaking hands with someone, by breathing in their face for a few seconds, by sharing a water bottle."

"Thank you, Doctor Scott. You talked about so few of us being left. Can you expand on that?"

"Yes, unfortunately I can. In urban areas studies have shown a 90% mortality rate. In some places, particularly large cities, it's higher. In rural areas that level is lower, because rural areas are more isolated and people can live off the land. We are only seeing 75% mortality rates in rural areas. The problem is that 55% of the population lives in urban areas and in the developed world it's closer to 80%. The Earth's population was over six billion before the Red Flu. We'll be lucky if it's more than six hundred million afterwards. What does that mean for the US? Well we were about 320 million before the Red Flu. There'll probably be about 30-35 million of us rattling around in this very big country."

"That's very disturbing Doctor. Can I ask you a question? You are British but you talk about "we" with regards to the US?"

"I am a British citizen and always will be. In a way I'm proud to be British, but I've only lived in Britain for about 15 years of my life. My parents were religious missionaries and we travelled all over Africa and India. I returned to Britain for school at 12, did my first two degrees there and then left in my mid-twenties. I've travelled a lot. I was with the World Health Organisation and Center for Disease Control and was with Doctors Without Borders for a while, but I've been based in the US for the past 10 years and it's my home now. I'm a permanent resident and I was a Medical Director of the CDC."

"Thank you Doctor for telling us a bit about yourself. I think I speak for all of our listeners when I say that we are delighted that you regard the United States as your home.

"Now, there's all sorts of rumours going around about the development of the cure Doctor, can you give us any information?"

"What sort of rumours, Mr Hernandez?"

"That you were kidnapped by the Russians. That you were badly treated…"

"Oh, err. That is correct, although it wasn't the Russian government, it was a standalone warlord."

"Where were you when you were kidnapped Doctor?"

"We were working up in the Arctic. I was embarked on the USS Nathan James. We had spent four months in the high Arctic looking for what we call the primordial strain of the virus."

"Can you explain that Doctor?"

"This virus came from nowhere. We'd never seen anything like it before. I hypothesised that it had been exposed by the melting polar icecaps. Birds feed on the fresh groundwater there and become infected with the virus, then they transfer it between themselves as they migrate. It doesn't impact them like it does humans. The first occurrence for this virus was actually in Egypt, and we hypothesised that it was transferred from bird to human by exposure to faeces."

"Like Avian flu?"

"Yes, just like that. We spent four months digging around in the Arctic looking for the feeding grounds and hence the source. We finally found it. Then the Russians came."

"What happened Doctor?"

"We were out on the ice. I was about to wind it up. We had what we'd come for, and then these helicopters attacked us. My co-worker was killed and I was wounded and our guard team was decimated. I was trapped and I ordered the last remaining member of my guard force to take my samples and get them back to the US. He didn't want to leave me, but he did when I explained how important it was."

"Why was it more important to take the samples than rescue you?"

"Because I thought that someone else could build on my work. It was only later that I discovered that there _was_ no-one else. Poor Captain Chandler (of Nathan James) found that out that evening but I didn't find it out until after he and his team had rescued me, months later."

"So, let me get this right. You were prepared to give up your life so that your samples got back to safety?"

"Well, you make it sound so much more than it was. The fate of the world's remaining population hung on those samples getting to a lab. It was a no brainer."

"Maybe we'll agree to differ on that Doctor. So what happened then?"

"I passed out from blood loss and woke up on the Russian ship."

"Oh God, that must have been very scary."

"Yes, it really was. While I wasn't that welcome at the time on Nathan James, at least it was safe and I knew we were all working to find and then distribute the cure. That wasn't what the Russian warlord had in mind."

"Who was the warlord?"

"His name was Admiral Konstantin Nikolajewitsch Ruskov. Captain Chandler told me he had been a celebrated officer during the Cold War. He had stolen his ship, a nuclear-powered battlecruiser, and was intent on finding the cure."

"So what happened?"

"From my conversations it became obvious that the Admiral wanted me to continue my work, which I was happy to do. But it also became obvious that he wanted to use any vaccine or cure as a strategic asset and only make it available to people who would pay. That's against all my beliefs and I realised that not only would I have to make a cure, but I'd have to make it contagious because there was no way that I would be able to access the manufacturing infrastructure to make enough of it."

"That's quite a jump Doctor."

"Well, it didn't come to me overnight. I'm talking about weeks of thinking around the problem."

"So how long did it take you to develop the cure Doctor?"

"Oh, many weeks. I was kidnapped around the beginning of October. I finalised the contagious cure towards the end of November."

"Wow, that is a long time."

"It's actually quite quick. To keep the Admiral off my back I told him the story of Max Theiler. Have you heard of Max Theiler?"

"No Doctor, please explain for the listeners."

"Well Max Theiler was working on developing a vaccine for yellow fever in the 1930s. His team tested over 99 strains of the virus and it was only on the hundredth attempt that they found it. Given that I was working on my own with not many resources I was very lucky to find it as fast as I did."

"And you said "to keep the Russians off my back" Doctor. Were they applying pressure?"

"I don't really want to talk about it but let's say there were punishments for failure."

"Oooo-kay. I'm sorry to bring it up doctor. So how were you able to get the cure out?"

"Well at the end of the day I wasn't. That was all up to Captain Chandler and the Nathan James. I had planned to, but events intervened."

"Could you explain a bit more Doctor?"

sigh "OK… well after I developed the final version of the vaccine I needed to test it to make sure it was airborne. The only way was to test it myself and my guard. I injected myself with the virus…"

"What?! You gave the virus to yourself?! What if you had died?"

"Oh, I wouldn't have died. I knew that the vaccine part worked, it was just whether the contagious part worked."

"But how did you know?"

"Well we had some vaccine trials. I had to hide the fact that the last one was successful because I knew that if the Russians discovered I had a vaccine then I would be surplus to requirements."

"So you pretended the vaccine didn't work?"

"Yes… it was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I… I…"

"Are you alright Doctor?"

"Yes," sniffles, "I'm not proud of what I did."

"I'm sorry for bringing it up Doctor. So you tested the vaccine on yourself?"

"Yes, I did. And then, since I was held captive in my lab during the day, I was able to test the airborne component on my guard after I had exposed him to the virus. Suffice to say it worked."

"What happened then doctor?"

"Well that was when it all started to go a bit pear-shaped from my point of view. We were heading towards Brest so I had thought that my best chance was to try to get off the ship there. I made a copy of my notes and stowed that and a vial of vaccine in a safe place in case I was captured, and then I took another few vials and my notes with me. The boat was nearly to the shore when they discovered I was missing and called it back. I had to chuck everything overboard."

"Why Doctor?"

"If they had my notes and the cure they would have killed me…as it was they nearly killed me anyway. The annoying thing was it was all such a waste. If I'd waited just one more night it would have worked out fine."

"What do you mean Doctor?"

"The next night Captain Chandler came from Nathan James. If I'd waited another night he and I could have just walked out together. Unfortunately, he found me in a slightly different state…"

"Doctor?"

"When they re-captured me, they worked out that I must have had a vaccine. They tried to get me to tell them. They beat me and, to make sure I didn't try to escape again, they used a hammer on my legs."

"Oh my God."

"Captain Chandler found me. He wanted to take me with him but I couldn't travel. I told him where my notes and sample were and asked him to go the UK and start circulating the virus."

"Why the UK?"

"Because we were closer to there than the US. It would have taken more than six days at full speed to get back to the US whereas the UK was closer and I knew that the emergency management infrastructure was more decentralised than it is here. I thought if Captain Chandler could make contact with the British military they could see about getting the Cure spread as soon as possible. And that's actually how it worked out."

"Why not France?"

"Well, I'm a Brit so I know a lot of people in my field in the UK but not so much in France. Also, France is a big country and I think a lot of their research operations are in the south of the country, and also there's the language barrier. The UK was much easier."

"But you Doctor. You were trapped on that ship. What was going through your mind?"

Pause "I wanted to die. I was in a lot of pain and I knew that it would be difficult for Captain Chandler to get back. I was ready to die then. I knew that Captain Chandler would have circulated the cure and my job was done, so there was no need for me to live any longer."

"I'm sorry Doctor."

"Well, luckily it all worked out in the end. Captain Chandler, the crew of the Nathan James and British special forces came back for me. I'll always be so grateful for everybody that risked their lives to save mine."

"I would think they were happy to do it Doctor. After all, your cure has saved millions of lives."

"I always regret that I couldn't have been faster."

"Given what you've told me today Doctor, I honestly don't believe you could have done more than you did."

"I know that in my head, but in my heart I wish I could have been faster."

"So, you were rescued by Nathan James. What's happened to you since then?"

"Well they evacuated me to the UK for medical treatment and then I asked to be transferred to Nathan James so I could come back to the US. We were lucky enough to make contact with the hospital ship Solace on our way back which gave us access to some world-class doctors and manufacturing capacity. We brought them back to Norfolk with us.

"However, we've had to decentralise our cure-manufacturing infrastructure. I don't know if your listeners are aware but there is a cult out there of people who are immune to the virus."

"I didn't know that…"

"Well there is, and these people have stepped over a line. They are responsible for attacks on virology labs both before and after a cure was discovered. We believe that they are in control of a submarine and this submarine has launched missile attacks on the US Army infectious diseases labs at Fort Detrick and the CDC headquarters in Atlanta. They are responsible for the attack on Heathrow airport aimed at disrupting cure distribution flights. These people believe that they are God's chosen people because they are immune to the virus. But they're willing to take up arms to make sure that only they live.

"We've had to set up defences around our labs and scientists to make sure that these people can't get to them. If your listeners have any information about the whereabouts of these people, please tell us."

"I'm sure people will, now they know about this. How are you doing now Doctor? Apart from your leg you look fine."

"I am much better, thank you very much for asking. I'm hoping to get my leg out of plaster this week and, apart from that, I'm nearly recovered physically. Unfortunately, it will take me a little longer to get over things mentally, but I'm lucky to have a great network of friends who are helping me through it.

"I'm certainly not alone in this. I think it will take all of us a while to get over what's happened. Everybody's lost someone dear to them. From my experience I can say that talking with others helps a lot. Don't bottle it up. Others have different perspectives and can really help to share the load."

"And what are you working on at the moment?"

"Well, I'm currently based on the USS Nathan James. We are moving up and down the east coast and will be moving into the Gulf of Mexico as well, distributing the cure to coastal locations."

"So you're not putting your feet up Doc?"

"There's still too much to do. When there's nobody dying from the virus any more then I can put my feet up. Until that time there are still people that need our help. At some point I will move on to helping to re-establish the CDC and putting the infrastructure that we will need back in place. But that's still a long way out. For now, the focus is on getting the cure to as many people as possible as fast as possible."

"Doctor Rachel Scott, thank you for talking to me today."

* * *

 _A/N: Again, this one's a bonus. I wrote it early on but it didn't quite fit into my new chapter structure._


	26. Protecting: Chapter 4

_I do not own The Last Ship_

 **Part 4: Chapter 4**

 **7 February 2015**

"Tom. There's no need for you to go out on this landing party. You're still recovering from that ricochet you got." Why was he being such a prat? There was no doubt that the Immunes were more active in the south of the country than they had been in the north. They were just off the coast of Georgia because they had received a tip-off of an Immune cell operating near Waycross. The plan was to put a reconnaissance team in to observe and Captain Prat was determined to go on his own. Despite the fact that he had been hit by a ricochet during a fight in Charleston only a few days ago.

"It was just a flesh wound," he tried to reassure her, "If we encounter Immunes then a senior officer has to be there."

"Mike is your XO and he was very capable the last time I looked," she pointed out rather acerbically. They were in his cabin, where she had stormed after she'd heard that he planned to go out on this mission.

"Rachel, I have to go," he told her gently, "Mike doesn't have the training I do. It'll probably be an in and out. We'll find the Immunes, storm the base, and we'll be back before dinner tomorrow. Don't worry."

"Tom," she tried, "This is the first tip-off we've had about the Immunes. What if it's a trap?"

"You think I hadn't thought of that?" he asked exasperatedly. "That's why we're landing a ways away from the coordinates and walking in." He grasped her shoulders, looking deep into her eyes. "Trust me. It'll be fine." _Famous last words_.

* * *

 **8 February 2018**

"How's it going ladies?" The interruption was most appreciated since they had been in the gym for over an hour and Rachel was already plotting Ravit's death! The Israeli had to be one of the most focused people that Rachel knew, and as someone who was pretty damn focused herself, that was really saying something! While, in a broad sense, Rachel didn't regret asking Ravit to help her get back in shape and learn some martial arts, at certain times (which normally coincided with the times that they were in the gym!) she did really regret it. And the longer those gym sessions went on, the more she really regretted it.

Luckily, they had been winding down after some sparring. While Rachel was improving, Ravit still broke through her guard with regularity and, while she knew the Israeli was a trained commando, she _hated_ that. In Rachel's view if you were going to do something, you had to be pretty damn good at it and she _hated_ being so mediocre. And, if she was honest, she hated losing as regularly as she did too. And what was worse was that she knew that Ravit was using her competitive nature to push her forward. And because she was so competitive she wouldn't call for a break. But she couldn't deny that she was starting to get a lot stronger physically and that did make her feel a little better.

She backed away from Ravit and looked up at Kara. She hated how out of breath she was, but she still managed to answer, "Fine, if you like getting the shit kicked out of you!"

Ravit and Kara both laughed. Ravit – the bitch – was hardly sweating. Kara asked, "I've just gone off watch so I wondered if you'd like to join me for a snack?"

Rachel looked at the Israeli, "What do you think Sensei? Need a break from beating me up?"

The lieutenant grinned, "Wouldn't say no. I think you're improving padawan. It almost feels like work."

"What, as opposed to pleasure?" Rachel questioned, reaching for her water bottle and towel.

"Oh no, it's always a pleasure," her teacher deadpanned back at her, "but there _is_ a significant improvement, Rach. I have to work to get through your guard now."

"Was that supposed to encourage me?" she questioned the woman formerly known as her friend.

"Well, given that I've been a soldier for eight years and training in self defence for ten, and that you've only been working with me for a few weeks, I'd say that's pretty good Rach! And factoring in that you've only just recovered from a very serious leg injury, I'd say it's pretty phenomenal," her friend replied.

"S'pose so," she agreed. When you put it like that maybe she was doing OK. But she should be better than this.

Kara shook her head, "You're so competitive Rach."

"Nothing wrong with that," Bivas reassured her, "but keep it realistic."

She smiled at her friends, "OK, OK. Received and understood. Sometimes it just gets away from me a bit. Now, let's go and get something to eat for Kara and the Blob!"

"Oi, less of that. _He's_ not a blob." Kara asserted as they walked out of the gym.

"Yeah, yeah b-" What Rachel was going to reply was interrupted by the 1MC which suddenly announced "INTRUDERS ON BOARD! INTRUDERS! SET-!" It suddenly cut out.

They all looked up to it in amazement and then shock as they heard faint gunfire from elsewhere in the ship.

Ravit and Kara looked at each other, "The Armoury!" Kara said.

"Concur," agreed Ravit, all business, "I'll lead. You two - behind me!"

Rachel followed along behind her friends, figuring that they'd have a better idea of what to do in a boarding situation than she. The US Navy probably trained for this sort of thing. Luckily their sneakers were pretty silent on the deck, but it was still strange that Ravit stopped before each junction in the p-way, and carefully looked round the corners at knee level.

They reached the armoury without running into anyone, which was lucky as they were unarmed. Ravit set about changing that, grabbing a gun and ammunition. "Put some of these guns and ammo into a bag," she told Rachel, grabbing some body armour, "I'll go outside and cover us. Hopefully other members of the crew will come as well, before the attackers."

Rachel stared at the racks of guns and boxes of ammunition. "Kara, I don't know anything about guns. Tell me what to pack?" she asked her friend, slightly desperately.

Kara smiled at her reassuringly, "Don't worry Rach. You grab some bags and I'll get the equipment. Oh, and put on some body armour."

Reassured Rachel set about her task.

"Kara!" called Ravit, "Incoming. Need you for identification." Kara looked up and ran out, hefting an assault rifle. Rachel continued moving similarly shaped guns into the bags.

"Clear," Rachel heard from outside, "Good to see you Chief Lynn, Cosetti, Cruz, O'Connor. Get armed up and then Cruz and Cosetti you come out here and support Lieutenant Bivas. Did you see anyone else?"

"No ma'am," replied Lynn as the group and Kara came into the Armoury, "but we did hear gunfire. Doc," he nodded and acknowledged her as did the others. She returned their nods and then went back to her task.

"Rach?" she looked round at Kara, "Body armour please," her friend told her, "we're gonna be leaving here soon and we don't want any holes in you!" she smiled at her friend as she pushed the chestplate in front of her, and started to put it on.

"When you've done yours can you give me a hand?" Kara asked her, "it turns out they're not exactly designed for pregnant women!" They worked on the straps for a while, finally getting it set up as best they could. By that time another five crewpeople had arrived, taking their group to 12. Ravit had come back into the room and her, Kara and Chief Lynn were talking quietly in the corner.

"Are there any trauma packs in here?" Rachel asked, thinking that she might need to treat injured.

"Here ma'am," a crewman whose name tag said "O'Connor" told her, presenting three basic first aid packs in a bag, "that's all there is."

"Thanks," she replied. It would have to do.

"OK everybody," Kara called, "Can you guys in the corridor hear me?" She paused and their "Aye ma'am" could be heard, "We need more bodies and our best chance of finding those will be in the mess deck, so that's where we're going first. We're going to leave four people here to guard the armoury. The rest need to come with me. Once we've got more bodies we'll split up and clear out CIC, Engineering and the Bridge. After that we'll be much better able to control the clear out. Everyone clear with the plan?"

"Aye Ma'am!"

"OK, Lieutenant Bivas has point with Thomas and O'Connor. Cruz is covering our rear with Martinez and Jackson. Chief Lynn, Cosetti, Garcia and White – you're guarding the armoury. I cannot emphasise to you four how important it is that you hold here until we can relieve you," she paused, looking at them as they nodded their heads. "OK, let's go and show these people what happens if you fuck with the US Navy!"

"Yeah!" everyone cheered and Rachel couldn't help be surprised at how well Kara controlled the room and she smiled at her friend as they filed out.

"Take this, Rach," her friend told her, pressing a pistol and holster into her hand.

She looked at Kara, about to tell her how crap she was with guns, "It's really easy. You just point and shoot. We haven't got time for you to argue," Kara told her, "They won't respect that you're a Doc. We'd feel a lot better if you at least have some protection. It clips around your thigh."

She smiled softly and bent to attach the holster. The gun was much heavier than she thought it would be.

"OK, move out!" Kara told them, suiting action to words.

* * *

They had managed to get to the Mess Deck without having any contact with the attackers and found another 30 crewpeople there. They were just unloading the weapons from the bags when the attackers ran into the perimeter guards they had placed and gunfire erupted.

"Doc, we need you!" Cruz called, half-carrying Martinez into the room.

 _Show time_ , she thought. "Put her on the table!" she instructed, pulling a first aid pack out of the bag she carried. She pulled on plastic gloves and then set about examining the woman. She was bleeding from the right arm, but not too badly. She cut away the uniform to reveal the wound and checked the other side of the arm. Sure enough there was an exit wound. "This might hurt a bit," she told the woman. She pushed gauze into both sides of the wound and tied a field bandage around the wound. It was enough to control the bleeding.

"Should be OK," she told Martinez, "It's a flesh wound and missed the artery."

"Thanks Doc," the woman told her, smiling tightly.

"I'm afraid we don't have any analgesia though," she apologised, "You probably don't want to come back to my hospital eh?"

The woman smiled at her more genuinely, and patted Rachels' arm with her uninjured hand, "I'll come back to your hospital any time."

In the few minutes it had taken to treat Martinez the gunfire seemed to have died out. She looked up as Kara came over, "What happened?"

"Oh, they weren't prepared for resistance. We got four of them and the others pulled back. We're splitting up now. Can Martinez move?"

"Yes, she should be OK," replied Rachel.

"Great," replied Kara, then raising her voice, "OK everyone, we're splitting up now. I will take a group to CIC, Lieutenant Chung will go to Engineering and Lieutenant Gibson will go the Bridge. Check in by phone to CIC once you get my signal and we will start clearing compartment by compartment. Doctor Scott will be with my party so if you come across any bad casualties let us know in CIC.

"We didn't start this fight but let's damn well finish it!"

* * *

Thumbs up, Cruz signalled to Matthews who pulled the lever and opened the door marked "Combat Information Center" and Cruz stormed in, shooting the black-clad intruder standing in front of him. Ravit quickly followed, crouching down, shooting another. Then they and the others were through the door and out of sight. Rachel winced as she heard the sound of gunfire being exchanged. She hoped her friends were alright. Then it went quiet.

"Clear!" she heard, then "Clear over here," then more silence.

"Doc, we need you in here!" _Uh oh_. She ran around the corner into the CIC, Kara by her side, to be greeted by a horrific sight. They'd wondered on the way up what had happened to the ship's senior officers and the on-watch CIC team. Now they knew. They'd been butchered at their stations. There were four black-clad bodies on the floor. And about twenty blue-clad.

"Oh Christ," she couldn't help the words that spilled out of her mouth.

"Over here Rach!" Ravit called from behind a console, waving her hand.

"Steinberg's alive too!" called Matheson.

"And Kane!" called another seaman.

 _Oh shit_ , she thought, bringing herself to focus. "Okay, we need to triage," she ordered, "Check everybody and then I'll decide the priorities." She would need help, "Kara can you spare Willard, Simkin, Cortez and Mackenzie?" she asked.

Her friend looked at her, "Whoever you need Rach," she told her, as Rachel ran over and knelt next to the nearest seaman, running her hands down his body and locating two abdominal wounds which were spewing blood. She took a deep breath, "OK he's a T1." As she moved to the next one, she called to her helpers, "Open the medical packs and grab any more that are in the room. I'll need gauze, bandages and any tourniquets you can find. We'll need to improvise, so see if you can cut up uniforms into strips. I need any straight-sided implements like metal knives or pens and anything like gaffer tape or anything like that." She glanced over at Foster, "Kara, I know it's not safe yet but when it is I need proper trauma kits and blood ASAP."

"OK Doc," her friend replied and she didn't think on it further as she knelt down next to the next patient, who she could see was Lieutenant Commander Barker. He had no pulse. She gently closed his eyes, not having time to mourn for the man. She got up and moved onto the next, and the next, and the next. At the end of it all she had seven T1s, five T2s and, with regret, two T4s. The rest were dead. She allocated the T2s to some of the sailors, teaching them quickly how to improvise tourniquets and field dressings. Then she moved on to the T1s, desperately working to slow their bleeding and stabilise them.

By the time she'd treated four, she was running low on just about all necessary supplies. "Kara, I need a proper trauma kit," she called as she desperately fought to control the bleeding from PO Kim's wounds, "We're nearly out of gauze and have no more tourniquets. Can you send someone to the medical bay?" she asked.

"Lieutenant Bivas? Can you take a team down and see if you can get what Rachel needs?" Kara requested from her post at CIC where she was co-ordinating the armed response.

"Yes, Lieutenant," Ravit replied, "You three are with me," she instructed.

"Ravit?" she called, "Bring some blood as well?" she asked.

"Sure Rach, back in a jiffy," her friend told her, leaving with her team.

Just as Rachel was moving onto the next patient a panicky voice called from the entrance, "Doctor Scott!" She looked up. Two men were carrying the XO into the CIC. He looked bad, pale with blood on his face.

"Mike!" she exclaimed, "put him down over here," she told them. "Dress that," she told Willard, who was helping her finish with Kim. She started her primary survey. _Two gunshot wounds, right upper abdomen. Heavy bleeding. Slight blue tinge. Trouble breathing. Frothy blood on the lips. Shit! Sucking chest wound._

"Congratulations Mike, you move to the front of the queue," she told him under her breath, turning to Mackenzie, "See what you can do for Smith and Woods." They had been next on her treatment list.

She needed chest seals but they didn't have anything, what could she do? Gaffer tape? No, it wouldn't be wide enough, but maybe… "Is there any plastic here? Bags, packing or something?" she asked, as she started cutting Mike's uniform away.

Mike was looking at her "Urgh, urgher," he gargled, reaching for her hand. More blood frothed around his lips.

She caught his hand, gently, "Don't try and speak Mike," she told him, "Don't worry, Kara's got the ship all under control. Now I'm going to fix you up," she tried to soothe him, leaning him forward to check out the exit wounds. _Christ, what a mess._

"Doc!" it was Cortez, brandishing a big piece of see-through plastic that looked like the wrapping from something.

"That'll do," she told him as she grabbed it. It was big and thick. Perfect. She cut it in two. "Gaffer tape?" she asked. Cortez handed it to her.

"OK, don't try this at home kids," she murmured, unaware that she was now the centre of attention as she fought to save the XO's life. "Help me hold this in place," she told Cortez and then as he and Willard held both plastic pieces over the entry and exit wounds, she wound the gaffer tape tightly round Mike's torso. Passing the tape over to Cortez she told him, "wrap that round him as tight as you can until the entry and exit wounds are totally airtight," she told him, "he's not gonna like me when it comes to taking it off, but it beats being dead all ends up!" She leaned back to wipe her brow as Cortez finished up wrapping the tape around Mike's torso.

"Done ma'am," Cortez told her as they lowered him back. His breathing was easier but not sorted.

"OK, I'm gonna need a scalpel or a sharp knife," she told her helpers.

"Here Doc," A seaman she didn't know handed her a scalpel.

"Where did you get that?" she asked.

"From here," replied Ravit, breathlessly. She hadn't even heard or seen her friend come back, but she was carrying a trauma treatment pack and several bags of blood.

"Thank God," muttered Rachel, giving her friend a tired smile, but focusing quickly back on the job at hand.

"OK, lay him on his back," she instructed, "and everybody might want to step back, cos it's about to get messy." She told them as there was a shuffle backward. "In that pack is there a small diameter plastic tube? I need that please," she told her team as she moved into position to make the incision. The body armour was restricting her movements. She started to rip at the straps.

Ravit moved over to help her with the straps and she smiled in thanks to her friend, then lay down getting into the right position. She could hear her heart beating in her head and closed her eyes, breathing out to try to control herself. "OK, on three," she told herself, "one, two, three," and she made the incision, cutting through the second and third intercostal space, hoping she was in the right place. She was rewarded by air and blood escaping and stuck her finger into the incision, before stuffing in the thoracostomy tube to allow more air to escape.

"Phew," she exclaimed, pulling back. It had been quite a long time since she'd done that procedure. And she'd only ever done it twice for real, and never in a pre-hospital setting. "OK, seal that," she told her assistants. "His breathing should improve in the next few minutes. If it doesn't, call me back. Now who's next?"

* * *

Seeing Rachel save the XO's life, for that was what she was certain Rachel had done, had been an eye-opening experience for Kara. She'd seen Rachel in action in Baltimore, but not in these sort of conditions. She knew Rachel had operated on many of the wounded but she'd been in CIC at the time and hadn't been to the hangar bay until after things had calmed down. She knew Rachel had been professional then but this was something else.

Rachel had triaged all the injured in a few minutes and then had proceeded to treat the most badly injured. And because they didn't have proper medical supplies, she had had to improvise a lot. Rachel's focus and intensity was amazing and for the first time Kara thought she was seeing the scientist that Rachel was. After Baltimore, Rachel had told her that her second degree was medicine and that she tried to keep her skills current, but this was a level beyond anything Kara had seen before.

To be able to diagnose traumatic wounds so quickly and calculate the best way to treat them without equipment in a discipline that was your second skill was pretty damn amazing in Kara's view. And Kara thought then that the crew of the Nathan James was damn lucky to have Rachel Scott among them. Otherwise more of them would have joined Commander Barker, for sure.

Rachel had saved Barker's life in Baltimore, but she hadn't been able to do anything for him this time and Kara mourned for the man who had encouraged her and trained her over the past two years. But there was more to do. Barker wasn't the only dead crewperson in CIC and if Kara wanted to limit the number of others on Nathan James she had to start acting instead of reacting.

With Engineering, Bridge and CIC cleared she had given orders to start clearing the rest of the ship. It was slow going because there must have been at least 25 boarders and they were professionals. They had killed about 10-12 of them but there were still quite a few left. Her crew was fragmented and not trained to repel special ops-trained boarders. And the Captain was a pregnant Lieutenant who was shattered and supposed to be in bed now. But she was also a Navy officer and this was her home and these were her people and she had a duty to save as many as she could and save her ship.

* * *

"Kara?" she looked up from her conversation with Ravit. Casualties were horrendous and it was now confirmed that the Chief Engineer was also injured, so she really was the ship's ranking officer. Still, the enemy was down to a handful and they were slowly gaining the upper hand.

Rachel was stripping off her plastic gloves. She didn't know why her friend bothered; her arms were coated with blood and her gym outfit also covered. Even her friend's face was speckled with blood. She looked exhausted.

"Rach?" she queried.

"We've done as much as we can here. We need more space and I need more hands and more equipment and most importantly, we need blood," Rachel told her, "We need to set up emergency blood donation ASAP. Can we use the hangar bay again?"

"Agreed," she told her friend, "We'll clear the chopper out onto the deck and get it set up down there," she turned and saw Alisha. She'd been pleased that her friend was OK. She'd been off-watch when the attack occurred. "Lieutenant Granderson, can you please take a team down to the hangar bay and get it converted to a medical centre?"

Her friend smiled, "Aye Lieutenant," she replied and started putting together her team.

"LIEUTENANT FOSTER!" A voice shouted urgently, and she looked towards the communications station, "The Master Chief says that they're attacking the magazine!"

 _Shit, they must be trying to blow the ship_ , she thought. "Lieutenant Bivas, please take an emergency team and get down to support the magazine."

The commando nodded at her, "Aye Lieutenant," and swung round to start pulling people together.

"Lieutenant?" The woman manning the comms station called again and she looked up, "They're also asking for the Doc."

She raised her eyebrows at Rachel, silently asking if her friend was up for this. Unsurprisingly the Doc nodded back at her, "Lieutenant Bivas?" she called.

"Aye Lieutenant?" her other friend asked.

"Please take Doctor Scott with you, but make sure she's well-protected please."

"Aye ma'am," Bivas replied.

She reached out to Rachel as she went to grab her trauma pack and body armour, "Don't do anything stupid Rach, we need you."

She received a tired smile in return, "No worries Kara," then she was gone.

* * *

"They're going to bleed out if I don't get to them!" she told Bivas and Cruz. The enemy had seemingly given up on their plan to get to the magazine when reinforcements arrived and had made a break for the deck. As they did so, they'd caught the Master Chief's party unawares and nailed them with a grenade and gunfire. They were all down in a compartment which was across the p-way and down five metres from where their team was. A p-way which currently separated their team and the enemy and consequently had quite a lot of gun fire flying across it.

"I told Kara I'd take care of you!" her friend replied.

"So take care of me! Give me covering fire while I run over there and take care of our people!" she told her friend, "Because if I don't go now, they'll die!"

Bivas and Cruz looked at each other, "Did I ever tell you? You're crazy!" Ravit exclaimed, glaring, but then her face dissolved into a grin, "But that's OK – I like crazy!" She leaned over and tightened the straps on Rachel's body armour. "Are you ready?" she asked.

"As I'll ever be." Rachel told her.

"OK," said Bivas, nodding at Cruz, Simons and Levy, "In five. One, two, three, four. OPEN FIRE!" she shouted, matching action to words, "GO! KEEP LOW!"

Rachel didn't hang about. She grabbed her trauma pack and sprinted across to the room that held the Master Chief's party and dived through the door.

"Shit Doc!" Grunted the Master Chief, desperately trying to stem the bleeding from where the grenade had blown a hole in his abdomen, "That was badass."

"I'll give you badass," she told him, closing the distance on him and gently pulling his hands away, "What is it with you lot? Always trying to give me more work?" she smiled at him, "That's pathetic Master Chief," she told him, putting his hands back to cover the wound as she rooted around in her bag for a haemostatic gauze, "You let one little hole put you out of action." The injury was very bad, but she'd found that humour often reassured patients.

"Sorry Doc," he grunted, "I'll try and do better next time."

"Don't worry, I'll forgive you," she told him, pushing the gauze into the wound and tying the whole thing up with a field dressing. "Try and stay conscious while I look at the rest of them."

Bush had got the worst of the grenade and had extensive damage to his legs but she'd just got them tourniqueted when the firing halted outside. She vaguely heard shouting outside as she moved on to help the next seaman. "Still with us Master Chief?" she enquired.

"Yes Doc," he replied, "If I don't make it, I want to thank you for trying to help us." She swung round to look at him. He looked no worse, but she couldn't take her hands off the seaman's leg where she was tying a tourniquet.

"Are you OK?" she asked.

"Just feeling a bit faint," he told her, "but I wanted to thank you. Just in case."

"You can thank me by living," she told him, finishing the tourniquet and moving back over to him, grasping his wrist tightly. The bleeding from the gut wound had dried up with the haemostatic but his pulse was faint. He must have internal bleeding. Fuck. She wasn't a surgeon, but she would need to be.

"Ravit!" she shouted.

"Doc?" Cruz appeared in the doorway, "The Lieutenant's just making the prisoner safe. Can I help?"

 _Prisoner?_ She raised her eyebrows mentally at that. "I need blood in here. FAST. Then I need these four transferred to the hangar ASAP!"

"OK Doc," he told her, "I'll get on it right away."

* * *

"Rios didn't make it I'm afraid." _Oh God_ , thought Kara, _how are we going to cope with 40+ seriously injured and just one medic?_

"Do you know what happened?" she asked Alisha. They were in CIC. Nathan James was still at General Quarters while Bivas, Cruz and their team carried out an exhaustive search of the ship for any other attackers. They had found 25 attackers so far, of whom 23 were dead and two prisoner. Alisha, her and Chung were the most senior officers still standing, which left her as Captain, at least until the real Captain returned.

"I don't know what happened, but we found him outside the Med Bay. It looks like he was executed. Single head wound."

"Oh God." She'd been a medical auxiliary for Rios for the past 18 months. He'd been a good man. But she couldn't afford to dwell on his passing now, she had other things to do.

"Lieutenant Foster? Lieutenant Bivas for you Ma'am," the crewman at the Comms station told her.

"Foster," she said, picking up the phone.

"Lieutenant, we're clear," Bivas reported, "No more attackers."

"Thank God," she replied.

"I'm going to head for the Hangar Bay, if it's OK with you?" Bivas told her, "I'm not going to add anything to conning the ship and Rachel needs all the help she can get."

"Agreed," replied Kara, "Thanks," and she replaced the phone. "All clear," she announced and there was a small cheer.

She looked at Alisha, "So we're pretty sure these guys came from a sub?" she questioned.

Her roommate shrugged, "It's the only way. There were no airborne or surface contacts. They must have come from under water."

"OK, I think we need to break for shallower water," she told her friend, looking at the plot, "Steer 290. Engage Prairie/Masker and we'll stay at General Quarters for the time being."

"Aye aye," her friend told her quietly, grinning.

"You've got the bridge, but don't put your feet up!" she replied, returning the grin "You're the effective XO. You need to come up with a watch bill. We're gonna be shorthanded, so assume only two watches for now. We can start to be clever when we've got ourselves a bit more sorted. Call the Mess Deck and get sandwiches sent round for everyone." She paused to see if Alisha had any questions. When she didn't appear to, Kara carried on, "Nobody moves alone until further notice, everybody stays armed. I'm going to give the crew an update. We're gonna need blood donors and we're gonna need them fast."

"Aye aye," her friend told her again, moving to leave.

Kara held her fist out for a bump, which Alisha returned, "Good luck."

As she left Kara turned towards the Comms console. "Can you give me 1MC?" she asked.

"Aye aye Ma'am," the technician replied, then, "Ready Ma'am," and she took a deep breath as she picked up the mic.

"This is Lieutenant Foster, commanding. I have just been informed that the ship has now been declared safe, but we will remain at General Quarters for the time being. In addition, nobody walks alone at any time and for any reason. Doctor Scott has set up an emergency treatment facility in the port hangar bay and all injured personnel should be taken there. In addition, we are desperately in need of additional blood supplies and anybody who is willing to donate blood should go to the hangar bay as soon as possible.

"We believe the attackers landed from a submarine so we are currently heading to shallower water…"

* * *

 **9 February 2015**

Kara nodded at the sentries and pushed open the door of the hangar bay. 18 hours after the attack on the ship she still had Nathan James on a heightened level of alert although they had stood down from General Quarters. There were guards in all essential areas and places where the crew gathered and everybody was still carrying weapons wherever they went. While there was only a tiny possibility that the enemy would board them again, she just couldn't take the chance. Until they were out of this area and had their full complement back on board, they would have to maintain alert status.

Alisha had got the helo moved outside and had converted the port hangar to a sick bay. And it was full of casualties. Kara had dreamed of commanding an Arleigh Burke class destroyer since she was at school. But not under these circumstances. Not a stand-in captain to a damaged destroyer with 19 crew members dead and another 60 injured, 30 of them seriously. Not with the Captain away, the corpsman and the TAO dead, and the XO, Chief Engineer and Command Master Chief fighting for their lives. Nobody wanted to be the senior surviving officer, because that meant that those above you, who you respected and liked and relied on, were incapacitated. And nobody especially wanted to be in that situation while over 20 weeks pregnant.

She was exhausted. She'd already been on watch for five hours when the attack happened. Then she'd had to help liberate the ship, take command of CIC, and deal with making the ship safe and the aftermath of the attack. And she'd been up now for 24 hours. And the baby didn't like it. And he had made that quite clear.

At least she'd been able to have some breaks. That was more than some people had managed and it was time to do something about that, which was why she was here now.

Ravit greeted her as she entered the hangar. The Israeli commando was wearing a blood-covered plastic apron over her uniform and wore bloody green plastic gloves. She'd been kneeling down tending to one of the injured crewmembers on the deck but stood as she saw Kara enter. She looked just about as shattered as Kara felt.

 _There's so many of them_ was Kara's first impression as she stepped into the Bay. There were lines upon lines of wounded, lying on blankets on the deck since they had run out of beds. At the back of the bay sheets made makeshift walls for an area that had been set up as an emergency treatment area for the most badly injured crew people.

Kara smiled at the woman who had become her friend as she approached. "How's it going?"

Ravit gave a deep sigh, "Difficult," she replied, "tiring." Suddenly she grinned, "should I call you Captain?"

Kara scowled at her, "We're not at that stage yet. But you can call me "Your worshipfulness" if you want!" she joked.

"In your dreams shorty!" was the amused reply.

Kara grinned, but then became more sombre, "Where is she?" she asked.

Ravit's expression also became more sombre. "Over there," she pointed to the emergency area, "I'm worried about her."

"Me too," Kara replied, "which is why I'm going to order her to rest and I'll need someone to enforce that. Are you up for it?"

Ravit's expression became feral, "You bet. Everyone in here will be happy to enforce it. It's no good watching her driving herself into the ground."

"OK, let's do it," Kara told her, setting out for the sheeted-in area. She and Ravit walked through the entrance to find the area had been split into a patient waiting area and an operating theatre. Six patients lay in the waiting area including the XO and the Master Chief. Rachel was standing against the wall, directing a helper who was changing a dressing on the Master Chief's abdomen. Like Ravit, she wore a bloodied plastic apron and gloves, but also a surgical mask.

"Doctor Scott?" Kara called. Even though the helper, PO Harper from Weapons, reacted, Rachel had no reaction and continued to stand up against the wall.

"Doctor Scott? Rachel?" Kara repeated louder, and this time Rachel turned very slowly to face her. Kara was shocked at how shattered she looked.

"You shouldn't be here," Rachel told her quietly, and slowly, as though speaking was an effort, "not sterile."

"Have you looked at yourself recently Rach?" Kara questioned, "You're not exactly sterile yourself. If it's a problem, you can come outside to talk to us."

She watched concernedly as her friend tried to push herself away from the wall. She looked at Ravit, who went to help Rachel. As soon as they got outside she turned to Rachel, "OK, this is enough Rachel," she told her friend quietly, "You're having a rest now. Anyone can wake you if there's an emergency but I want you to rest."

"Too many," Rachel slurred, "…only doc. I have to be here."

Kara shook her head, "No you don't. We'd like you to be here. But not at the cost of your own health." Rachel moved as if to speak and she hurried on, "And frankly, in this condition, you're not going to be doing them any good either."

"But I'm needed."

"For now, it's just waiting." Ravit told her, "You need to take a rest while you can."

Rachel looked at them both wearily, "Ganging up on me?"

"For sure," Kara told her, "and we're not taking no for an answer."

"OK."

"OK?" Kara was surprised; she'd thought it would be harder than this. Rachel must have been really shattered to give up so easily.

Rachel smiled tiredly, "You two are scarier than Tom," she nodded at Ravit, "And she can beat the shit out of me. And probably will."

Ravit grinned, "And don't you believe it padawan!"

Rachel blinked and seemed to have trouble opening her eyes. Ravit pushed in and started supporting her weight as she mumbled, "Bloody Hell, I'm not even drunk."

Kara gave her an old-fashioned look as they manoeuvred her over to a space in the corner and laid her on a bed of blankets, prepared by one of the other helpers. Rachel's eyes were shut before she was fully horizontal.

"Phew," commented Ravit, "I didn't expect her to give up so easily."

"No, I was surprised too. She must have been totally shattered. Stupid cow." Kara replied, "I'll leave you in charge. I'm going for a rest as well. Alisha has the conn. Call if you need anything."

"Will do," the Israeli told her, smiling, "have a good rest."

* * *

"Rachel!"

"Wha-?" she woke to find Ravit's worried face above her.

"Rach, we need you!" The Israeli told her urgently.

"What's-?" And then it all came back to her. The attack. Improvising to save Mike's life. Treating the Chief, Andrea Garnett, Maya Gibson, Cosetti and so many others. "How long?" she asked.

Ravit smiled at her. "You've been sleeping for three hours Rach, but the Chief's taken a turn for the worse. We need you to have a look at him."

"Help me up!" she instructed, the last of the tiredness falling away from her and adrenaline rushing through her veins. She looked at her friend who looked shattered. "How long have you been up for?"

"The whole time." Ravit helped her stand. She ached so badly, but she couldn't worry about that now. She had work to do.

"So it's your turn to have a rest," she told the Israeli. "No it's OK. Lesson learnt," she told the woman as she went to object. "You were right. The world didn't end while I was sleeping." Ravit was giving her a distinctly old-fashioned look, "I'll be a good girl. You take a few hours now and we need to set up shifts for the medical auxiliaries. I'll leave that in your capable hands." And with that she headed for the surgical area.

* * *

"Kara, we need some help here desperately." Rachel was looking better. Not much better, but a bit better nevertheless. It was six hours after their last meeting and once again they were in the makeshift Medical Bay. Rachel had called her down this time. Ravit was nowhere to be seen and Rachel had told her that she was resting.

"I know Rach, but what can I do? We couldn't make contact with the Captain's team and we can't just up and leave them with no notice," she told her.

Rachel rubbed her eyes, "No contact at all?"

"Well, we got through to Wolf," she told Rachel, "but he couldn't tell us much."

Rachel took a deep breath, "So here's the problem Kara. I'm a virologist. I can just about double as an emergency doctor but I'm not a surgeon. No wait," she told Kara as she went to speak, "let me finish, please. I don't think you understand how bad this is. We've got really complex injuries here. We need at least three different types of surgeon – cardiothoracic, orthopaedic and vascular, and preferably a plastic surgeon as well. I'm well out of my comfort zone." She paused and Kara could easily see the stress on her face, "I've had to do most of these operations with a copy of Gray's Anatomy being held open for me…. And that's not even the worst Kara. We're running out of supplies. A Destroyer is just not set up to deal with this many injuries. We need dressings, analgesia, antibiotics, tubes, stitches, needles. We'll be out of supplies in two days. And then a lot of our friends are going to die. Slowly and painfully."

She hadn't realised it was that bad. "What do you suggest?"

"We need to call Norfolk and see if they have access to surgeons or supplies and we need them here ASAP," Rachel told her somewhat desperately, "Just if they could send supplies. Could they airdrop them or something? I get that we can't leave the Captain's team but you're going to have to make a decision soon Kara. Sorry to add to your problems but this is a serious one."

"OK, leave it with me," she told Rachel, "Can you send Ravit when she wakes up? She might have some ideas…"

"OK-" But her friend was cut off.

"Doctor Scott!" Harper called from the surgical bay, "We need you, it's Gibson!"

"Shit! Sorry Kara," Rachel told her, running back to her patients.

* * *

"Lieutenant Foster?" She looked up from her work. She was in CIC, trying to figure what to do about the medical problems. She had called Norfolk but there weren't any trauma surgeons there and precious little in the way of supplies. The most senior officer on the base was Lieutenant Commander Rogerson, the flight engineering officer, and he didn't have anything to add. He had promised to reach out through the network but hadn't been able to promise much. She was thinking that the only way to get round the problem was going to be to land the helo onshore in order to evacuate the Captain's team when they requested and then cut and run with Nathan James. The helo had a 400 mile range so should be able to either catch up with them or get the Captain to a relatively safe zone until someone could get back and rescue him. She knew there were docs in Baltimore since they'd landed injured there after the Granderson attack.

"Yes?" she replied.

It was Ford, the comms technician, "I have Brigadier Wilkins on the line for you Ma'am, from Portsmouth."

 _What?_ She clamped her teeth to avoid that coming out and hoped she was successful. What was the head of the British armed forces doing calling her? "For me?" she asked.

"Yes Ma'am," he replied, "He asked for you by name."

Curiouser and curiouser. "Put him through," she told him, grabbing her headset.

"Brigadier Wilkins, this is Lieutenant Foster," she told him.

"Lieutenant," came the British accent from thousands of miles away, "I won't take up too much of your time."

"No sir, it's an honor," she replied.

"I doubt that," he replied, and she could hear the humor in his voice, "Don't try to deny it lieutenant! No junior officer in an emergency wants to deal with a crusty SO from another branch. We heard about your issues from Norfolk. I'm sorry for your losses. Can you please give me an update on casualties?"

"Erm, yes sir," What did she have to lose? "We now have 20 dead and 62 injured, of which Doctor Scott tells me 34 are currently critical. And that number's rising." There was a rapid intake of breath.

"I didn't realise it was so bad," he told her, "And I gather you're running out of medical supplies?"

"Yes sir," she told him.

"OK," he commented, "Well I'm glad to say help is on the way. We've scrambled our DART to Charleston, which should arrive in about nine hours. That's still in range of your helo isn't it?"

"Uh, yes sir," she replied, shocked, "it is in range. Uh sir, what's a DART?"

She could hear the smile in his voice, "Deployed Aeromedical Response Team, Lieutenant. It's a team of five that we have on standby. We've given you two surgeons and three nurses and as many supplies as we had immediately available. They're all Afghan veterans and they've all got training in dealing with complex injuries. We're also dispatching a team and supplies from 22 Field Hospital. We'll send that to Norfolk and hope we can get them to you by helo. That's going to take a bit longer, figure 22 hours to get to the US."

"I don't know what to say sir. Thank you just doesn't cut it."

"Bite your tongue Lieutenant. We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for the crew of Nathan James. I'm going to put my adjutant on now and he'll talk you through all the arrangements…"

* * *

"Ma'am! Lieutenant Foster!" She was just heading out to the hangar to give Rachel the good news when the call came. It was Ford again. She looked at him enquiringly, "Ma'am, the Captain's team has asked for emergency extract."

 _Thank God._ "Ask Ensign Willis to scramble the helo please," she told Ford, "and then get an ETA and send it to PO Taylor." She hoped the ensign could deal with everything. He was the copilot on the second flight team that had only recently been assigned to Nathan James. Lieutenant Smith, his pilot, was one of Rachel's critical patients and the other flight team was dead. They'd been on alert in their helo when the attackers had come on board and both they and the chopper had been riddled with bullets. At least Chief Nally was there to help the young man.

She changed her destination and made for the bridge instead. Alisha was doubling up as navigator and she thought a course change inland would make it quicker to recover the Captain's team and also move them closer to Charleston to pick up the British medical team.

She prayed to God that the Captain was OK. She was desperate for someone else to help deal with this clusterfuck.

* * *

 _A/N1: Rachel doesn't really know guns. I thought Rhona Mitra did a really great job of appearing to be afraid of guns in "Two Sailors Walk into a Bar", particularly when she was so badass in Strike Back!_

 _A/N2: I'm not a medic, but I work with medics. Thanks to some for talking the injuries and treatment through with me. All medical mistakes are my own!_

 _A/N3: Mega geek points to anyone who can locate the Top Gun reference in there!_

 _A/N4: T1-T4 are triage scores. In this context T1 means the most critical injured patients, with T2 less bad and T3 walking wounded. In this context T4 means wounds that are not treatable with current resources. Triage is a tough discipline. It's about maximising the impact of your resources and often tough decisions have to be made about who's treatable and who's not._

 _A/N5: DART is a real unit and is part of RAF medical services. Normally it would focus more on primary care than surgical care, however._

 _This chapter makes this officially the longest fic I've ever written! Yay! Just in case you were wondering, there's another 8-9 chapters to go and maybe an epilogue. I know it's longer than I said at the beginning, but the story just wouldn't go away!_


	27. Protecting: Chapter 5

_I do not own The Last Ship_

 **Part 4: Chapter 5**

 **9 February 2015 (continued)**

"So as soon as you were confirmed inbound Captain, I ordered a course change to head for Charleston at flank speed. We should be able to shave a bit off the helo journey time. Before I came down here we got an update from the DART and they should be only two hours out now." She sat back. She had just spent the last hour in the Captain's cabin, debriefing him on what had happened.

She had been in CIC when he arrived. She would have met him at the flight deck but Willis or Nally had obviously filled him in on a bit of what had happened because she had been told to stay in CIC until the Captain arrived. She had watched on the video cameras and been relieved to see Danny disembark from the helo unhurt, but there had been other passengers in addition to the team they had deployed, a middle-aged man and a younger woman who looked unwell. She guessed the Captain would fill her in when he got the chance.

She had a sip of her water while she waited for the Captain to react. He looked tired, she thought. _Like the rest of us_.

"I'm sorry you were put in that position Lieutenant," he said finally. "You know, when you told me about your pregnancy when we were at Norfolk I told you that I thought you were the best person to take on the acting TAO role despite your pregnancy. I took a chance on you then, and I want you to know, you've repaid me in spades, Kara. What you've accomplished here, under these conditions, is nothing short of exceptional. And I can't thank you enough for what you've done."

While she was elated to receive his praise, it wasn't just her that was responsible, "It was a team effort sir. Everybody played their part. And Doctor Scott has been above and beyond."

"I'm sure it was Kara," he told her, smiling for the first time, "But it still takes someone in command to enable that team. And you've done it brilliantly," he paused, looking at her, "Now how much rest have you had?"

"About four hours in the last thirty-six sir," she told him, really having to think about it.

He grimaced, "OK, go and get at least another four to six," he told her, "then I need you back on duty for a while to spell me, then we can go to six and six."

"OK sir," she told him. _Does that mean-?_

He nodded at her, "Yes Lieutenant. That means you're acting XO. You can take over from Lieutenant Granderson when you come back on watch."

"Yes sir," she nodded, "Thank you sir." In all truthfulness she was too tired to thank him properly.

"No Lieutenant, thank _you_."

* * *

Tom stared at the door to his office long after Foster had left. _What a clusterfuck._ He had thought that the mission had gone so well. And it had. But who's to say it couldn't have gone well with Green or Burk in charge? _Because you're such a control freak you **had** to lead the mission and while you were running around on land your crew were bleeding and dying._ A Captain's place is on his ship. That's what they said at leadership school and that was what was drummed into them all the way through their training.

 _And while you were chasing around on land a junior lieutenant had to take your position. A pregnant junior lieutenant. And while she didn't make all the same decisions you would've, she still did a damn fine job. But she shouldn't have had to. Because you should have been there._

 _But there's no point on dwelling on that now_ , the rational part of his head told him. _You need to work on fixing it_. And he did.

Sixty-two injured. Sixty-two. Twenty dead. Eighty-two of his crew incapacitated. That was over a third. It was practically a miracle that Nathan James still functioned. Fourteen KIA and a further six died of wounds. Whether he'd ever be able to forgive himself for those extra people who had died in the interim because Foster hadn't wanted to head for Norfolk straightaway and leave his party behind, he didn't know. Foster and the other JOs had done a brilliant job with what they had. Now he needed to finish the job. Pick up the extra docs and get back to Norfolk to land the wounded ASAP.

He needed to bed down the President as well. He had been hoping the Master Chief would have been able to help with that, but no such luck. Burk would have to babysit the President. Green was too direct and the idea of Tex taking care of the man was enough to give him nightmares. What about the communications guru – Valkyrie? He would have wanted Mason to work with her, but he was among the injured. Maybe Granderson? But he needed her on the Bridge, with Mike and Gator both out of action. He supposed Green might work on the Bridge. One of the JOs for navigation support and Tom himself could con the ship once they got back to Norfolk. That left Foster in CIC where she needed to be. And thank God they still had Chung in Engineering. Yes, that could work. Certainly, well enough to get them back home.

Time to go and assign everyone their tasks. And to go the Hangar Bay. He wasn't looking forward to that. Partly because he was dreading seeing all the wounded. And also because he was dreading Rachel telling him "I told you so".

* * *

He schooled his features as he stepped into the Hangar Bay. Still, schooled or not, the sheer number of injured was a shock. There were rows of them.

There were a number of crewpeople circulating in the room, some with plastic aprons, obviously tending to the injured, some in normal uniforms, obviously visiting their friends. Lieutenant Bivas was working near the door and came over to him.

She nodded at him, "Captain."

"Lieutenant," he acknowledged, "Thank you for your help here. And Lieutenant Foster tells me that you were instrumental in retaking the ship. So thank you very much."

"It was my pleasure, Captain," she told him, "It's my home too."

He smiled grimly, "Is Doctor Scott here?"

Her expression changed from open to closed in about a second, "Yes Captain," she told him, "But she's resting at the moment. It's difficult enough to get her to rest. Could I ask you to come back in about 30 minutes?"

 _That woman is very protective of her_. _And I've seen what she can do to those who annoy her_. He smiled, "It's OK Lieutenant, I remember Doctor Scott's work ethic from the Arctic. I'll just stay here and visit with some of the crew until the end of her rest period."

Bivas smiled tightly, "Lieutenant Foster says she's worse than the Arctic, sir. Apparently she's got a bit of a "saving people thing"!"

* * *

"Captain?" It was Bivas again. He had been talking with the injured and uninjured crew for the past 30 minutes. Hearing their stories and generally trying to be a good listener.

"Lieutenant?" he queried, standing up.

"Doctor Scott's awake now," she told him. As they moved away from Chief Wates, who he had been talking to, she cut across him so she could face him, "Sir, I don't want to speak out of turn, but Rachel's had about all she can take," she told him, "We're nearly out of supplies and she's exhausted and operating well out of her comfort zone."

"Don't worry Lieutenant, the Brits have sent an emergency medical team and we should rendezvous with them in about two hours," he told her, seeing the relief on her face, "Two surgeons and three nurses. And then they're rolling out a full trauma team which should reach us in about 48 hours."

"Thank God," The woman muttered, "If I were you, I would lead with that sir!" she told him, opening her body so he could move past her and enter the sheeted-in part of the hangar.

He paused in the entrance. There were extra heating units spread around, keeping the temperature here higher than it was in the rest of the hangar. Much higher than the chilly outside air. There were eight stretchers here and he recognised all of the patients. Mike, Russ and Mason lay in front of him. Rachel was bent over a stretcher to the right, which contained Tommy Cossetti, talking with PO Harper. The kid, who had volunteered for boarding duties after The Arctic, looked extremely pale and a number of blood-covered bandages covered his torso.

His shoes stuck to the deck as he moved forward and he looked down to see that blood coated it.

"You need to wait here, sir," Bivas told him as she walked past him, heading towards Rachel who was oblivious to their entrance, still talking to Harper, "Prep him for surgery, Nick. I'll have another little look and see if we can find what's wrong."

"Rach, you might want to hold on that!" announced Bivas, causing Rachel to look up. He caught his breath as he saw her. She looked shattered. Dark circles around red-rimmed eyes, pale and blood-stained face and surgical mask. She was wearing blue surgical scrubs spattered with blood, covered by a plastic apron which looked more red than white. She had green plastic surgical gloves, also bloody, and her arms up to her elbows were coated in blood.

"Tom!" she exclaimed, but then looked at Bivas, "Why?"

Bivas inclined her head towards him, "Because there's a British emergency medical team with two surgeons and three nurses en route here and they should arrive within the hour Rach," he told her.

"Thank fucking Christ," she gasped, stepping back and missing her footing. Bivas and Harper both lunged for her and managed to catch her before she fell over. "Sorry," she muttered, turning to Harper. "OK, get him prepped but let's hold off as long as we can," she told the man.

"Aye Doc," the PO told her, turning to his work as Rachel started walking towards him again. Her steps were shaky. Bivas hovered behind her until she made it to Tom and then smiled tightly at him, as if to say "over to you", before heading back to her work.

"I'm not going to ask how you are, because your face says it all," he told her, "to take a leaf out of Connie's book you look like-"

She held her hand up. "Thomas Chandler, if you tell me I look like shit, it'll be the end of a wonderful friendship," she told him, mock-glaring at him. "You already owe me for the tea that you haven't made up to me for. Then pissing off on this mission when you shouldn't have. And if you say I look like shit, that's three strikes," she told him, "Even if I do, in fact, look like shit!" she commented wryly, grinning tiredly. "Besides, you don't look so great yourself, and," and here she sniffed, "maybe you should have considered a shower before coming down here."

"A shower?" He questioned, playfully, "Have you looked at yourself recently? Or smelt yourself? People in glass houses Rach!"

"Ah, but I've got an excuse," she told him, "I've been working, not out on an adventure holiday with my mates!"

"Huh!" he spluttered, speechless.

"Gotcha!" her face was lit up by a genuine grin, the fatigue dropping away. "Your face," she chortled, then become more serious, "I hope you found what you were looking for Tom because it cost a lot."

He nodded at her, back to earth with a thud. "I did Rach," he told her seriously, "We found the future. The last key we need to rebuild. The President of the United States."

She stared at him hard for a few seconds and then gave a small, tight smile, "Well, I guess it _was_ worth it then. I'll look forward to getting the whole story. It might have to wait a little while though. I could do with some sleep."

"I can see that Rach," he told her seriously, "All joking aside, thanks for stepping into the breach. I think a lot of my crew owe you their lives. And I owe you my thanks."

"Don't be daft Tom!" she told him, "We're in this together. We agreed. Besides they're my crew too, and it's my job."

He smiled at her, "I don't remember trauma surgery being in a virologist's job description, the last time I looked."

"Smart-arse," she retorted. "Now, don't you have somewhere to be? As you might have noticed, I'm a bit busy!"

* * *

 **10 February 2015**

"What's _she_ still doing here?" he asked Bivas. It was just after midnight, several hours after the British medical team had arrived aboard Nathan James. They had got in late-evening due to delays with clearing the runway at Charleston airport and transferring their equipment onto the Seahawk helicopter. Unfortunately the delays had cost Cosetti his life. He had died from complications associated with his abdominal wounds. Rachel had done her best, but in the end the young man had just endured too much physiological damage.

The Brits had sent a very experienced team. Their leader was a Royal Navy Surgeon Captain, Richard McClintock, an experienced cardio-thoracic surgeon, and Colonel Alyson Soames was a vascular surgeon. Rachel's medical handover had taken in excess of three hours but then he knew she'd been banished to shower and sleep.

He had just been relieved by Foster and had dropped in to make sure the Brits had everything they needed before he went for some long-awaited sleep himself, but had been surprised to see Rachel, sat in a chair, talking to one of the nurses who had been introduced to him as Major Emma Christenson, and who looked vaguely familiar.

"It turns out her cabin was damaged in the fighting, Sir," Bivas told him, "She came back here to sleep."

"No way." No way was the woman who had sweated blood to save his crew sleeping on the floor in the converted hospital. No fucking way. He strode over to where she sat, clad in fresh blue surgical scrubs and looking cleaner, at least.

"Doctor, Major," he acknowledged them.

"Sir," the woman said, "I was just catching up with Doctor Scott. She's looking a bit better than the last time I saw her." Now he remembered; she had been at the hospital at Portsmouth.

"Emma was the first person I saw when I woke up," Rachel confirmed with a tired smile.

He smiled, "Well, why don't you catch up another time Rach? I thought you wanted to sleep. I've got alternate accommodations for you."

She shook her head slightly, "I don't want to be a bother Tom, and I frankly don't have enough energy to get up and move. I was just going to lie down here."

"No way Doc. There is no way the woman that's done more than anybody to keep my crew alive is sleeping on the floor in here tonight." He told her.

"Well, what are you going to do? Carry me?" she enquired tiredly.

"Yes." And with that he smiled and nodded at the Major, who smiled and nodded back at him, leant down and picked her up.

* * *

 **11 February 2015**

Consciousness came slowly and she hurt. God, she hurt. And she was on a ship. Panic shot through her and she sat up. _No! No! Not the Vyerni!_ The panic made her open her eyes and she stilled rapidly. She wasn't in any room she'd ever been in on the Vyerni. Indeed, the motion was choppier than it had been on the Vyerni and the pitch of the engines slightly higher. The ship was moving fast though, that she could tell by the way that the stem was cutting into what seemed to be reasonable seas.

The room also felt different. Warmer. Lived in. She was on a bed. There were books on the shelves. Books in English, she saw. And pictures. Photos. Ashley and Sam Chandler smiled at her from the wall. It must be Tom's cabin. _Why would I be in Tom's cabin?_

And then it came roaring back. The attack. Trying to give emergency first aid. Trying to treat the endless stream of horrifically wounded people. Losing people. Five, no six now because Cosetti was gone as well, people dead because she hadn't been good enough. She closed her eyes, mourning for those she couldn't save. Just six more to add to the billions that she hadn't been able to help.

 _But you went as fast as you could Rachel. It wasn't like you were pissing around for months on end. Nobody else made a cure. Nobody-_

Her thoughts were rudely interrupted as an amused male voice spoke, "Good evening, sleepyhead."

Her eyes shot up to the figure standing in the doorway and she pulled the bedclothes tighter around her, "Tom?"

"I would hope so Rach, since you're in my quarters!" he told her.

"What? Why-?" she stuttered.

"Don't you remember?" he asked.

"I remember handing over to Richard and Alyson…" but that was about all she remembered. The medical handover had been interminable. She did recall that.

"Figures," he replied, "you did look dead on your feet. They sent you off to shower and go to bed, which was a good thing because, in your terminology, you were minging!"

"Minging was I?" she observed, "Didn't your Mum ever tell you that you shouldn't call ladies minging?!"

He smiled nonchalantly, "I vaguely remember that lesson, but I'm pretty sure it didn't apply to people who spent two hours in the gym, three hours giving emergency first aid and then nearly thirty hours operating and getting covered in all sorts, without taking a shower!"

She couldn't help but acknowledge that one, "Point to Captain Chandler."

"And then you found that your cabin was damaged in the fighting. I found you about to stretch out in the Hangar Bay. And I wasn't having any of that."

"Oh?" she queried.

"I said this to you at the time, but I'll say it again. If you think I was going to let the woman that did more than anybody to keep my crew alive sleep on the floor in the Med Bay, you got another think coming!"

"And how did I react?" she asked, crinkling into a grin.

He grinned back at her, "About as expected! You told me you didn't want to be a burden and when I insisted, you said "what are you going to do? Carry me?" And I said - yes!"

"Tom!" she exclaimed, shocked, "You carried me from the Hangar Bay?"

"You're not that heavy Rachel, and you fell asleep before we got out of the Hangar Bay. I put you to bed, posted a sentry on the door and went to sleep in my sea cabin." Here he quirked his head at her, "Then I went on watch, then I came back here to do some paperwork, then I went for a walk round the ship, went on watch again, and have been back here working on some more paperwork. It was nice of you to finally rejoin the land of the living!"

"How long have I been out?" she asked.

"About 17 hours."

"17! Why didn't anyone wake me?" she gasped.

Now he gave her a decidedly old-fashioned look, "Because you needed your sleep Rachel." He held his hands up at her as she went to interrupt, "The British medical team had everything in hand, and we should be linking up with the other team within the next 12 hours. You did enough. When you've had a shower and eaten a bit then you can go and do a shift in the Hangar Bay, but not until then. Doctor's, nurse's and really quite protective Israeli commando's orders on the food. And I'm not sure which one I'm more scared of!"

She grinned as she thought about it. There was only one conclusion. "Ravit, for certain. The others took an oath to do no harm!"

He grinned back at her, "That was pretty much the conclusion I came to." He gestured to a door she hadn't noticed, "So, shower in there. On the floor is a bag of clothes and toiletries that Granderson grabbed for you from your quarters and I'll be in my office next door. Holler if you need anything." And he left, pulling the curtain closed.

She couldn't believe she'd slept for 17 hours. Mind you, she did feel better in herself. More alert, certainly, even if she was really stiff. A good hot shower would deal with that though. She'd better get on with that because her stomach was telling her if she didn't put something in it soon there might be a mutiny!

* * *

This was Tom's first bit of real downtime since he'd got back. They'd had a meal together and Rachel had insisted on going to the Hangar Bay to check up on the wounded. She had clear instructions to return by 02.00, otherwise he'd told her he'd send out search parties.

But for now he finally had a bit of time to himself to reflect. He should be triumphant, he thought, finding Jeffrey Michener really was the missing link. But with all that had happened to Nathan James while he had been away, it was difficult to feel happy.

They had had the tip-off of the Immune cell operating near Waycross. It had come through the Voice of America program and he had been wary of it. He'd thought there was a better than 70% chance it was a trap which was why they had decided to land a fair way's away and walk in overland. But it hadn't been.

There had been a group of Immunes there, but as they'd been watching the camp it was clear that the Immunes were packing up to go somewhere else. He'd decided that their team would follow. He, Burk, Ethan and Green had joined the group, with Tex and Miller as back-up in a commandeered truck and Wolf as controller and their link to the ship, well behind the main group. He hadn't really thought twice about going radio silent at the time, knowing that Nathan James was in safe hands with Mike in command, but he sure wished he'd given it more thought now.

The ride through the night and into the next day had been almost interminable on a convoy of old School Buses, picking up smaller groups as they went. But eventually they had come to what he thought was an old motel complex about 20km outside Tallahassee. The woman next to him had been practically shaking in excitement.

They had circulated within the room where a cult leader was preaching vitriol and then split up to explore further. He had infiltrated the on-site leadership group. This wasn't the full leadership group because he had heard reference to a higher level leader called "Sean", but perhaps it was a regional group. Green had called to say that they had located what seemed to be cells in the basement.

Curious as to who they could be keeping in cells he had headed in that direction. With Burk and Green keeping watch, he and Ethan had slipped into the cells and that's where they had found Jeffrey Mitchener and Valkyrie.

Mitchener had told them he was immune himself and had been lined up by the Immune leadership as the next president, given that he had formerly been Secretary of Housing and Urban Development. He had told them about the death of his family and his attempts to commit suicide. He had been truthful that he had been all set to serve the Immunes until he had heard broadcasts by the Voice of America and the BBC World Service over the Valkyrie network. That had shown him that there was a real world out there that the Immune leadership was intent on destroying. He had decided then and there that his duty was to the United States that he had sworn an oath to serve and not to the new Immune one. That hadn't gone down too well with the Immune leadership and, after they captured him trying to escape, they had imprisoned him.

The other occupant of the cell was a young woman. To say the woman had been challenging was an understatement, but when he had told her that he was from Nathan James her countenance had changed completely.

"Do you know Doctor Rachel Scott?" she had asked. He was shocked and confirmed that yes, he did know Rachel, but what was it to her? "She developed the Cure. Was nearly killed. Risked her life to get it out." It turned out that the young woman was a dyed in wool Rachel Scott groupie. He was looking forward to introducing her to her heroine. He knew Rachel wouldn't disappoint.

It turned out that Valkyrie, or Val as she had told them to call her, ran a major underground communications network. While she had initially been taken in by the Immunes, she also monitored a lot more channels and had cracked most of the British codes. She had discovered and been following the distribution of the cure around the world and when Nathan James had returned to the US and started distribution by air from Norfolk and in person up the east coast she had thrown caution to the winds and broadcast a report about how the Immunes were lying and that the US Navy and British Government was the real deal.

Indeed, he wondered whether the tip off about the Immune compound may have come from her listeners. Val had been in a bad way however. She had been infected by the virus and probably only had days to live. Knowing that getting the two prisoners out was more important than striking the immunes, he had gathered his team together to plan their escape.

He still remembered the feeling of elation he had when the helo took off with them and their guests, unharmed. It was quickly cut off after the pilot asked to talk to him.

* * *

 **12 February 2015**

As she walked towards the Brig, Kara was on cloud nine. Wait 'til she told Danny! And Rachel. But she was going to see Rachel before Danny. Nah, she'd have to hold back. Danny deserved to be the first to know. She couldn't believe it.

The Captain had invited her to his cabin. He'd told her he had a daily meeting with the XO and the Master Chief to discuss the running of the ship. In the absence of both it was just her and him. He had invited her to sit across from his chair, grabbed some water for her (normally she would have had coffee but it didn't seem to agree with her at the moment) and sat down across from her.

"Just before we start, I have something to tell you Lieutenant," he had told her, and she was a bit surprised by his formal tone, and tensed. "Don't be worried!" he'd told her, "I've had a look at the initial after-action reports, as well as your recent officer fitness reports and I've decided, in recognition of your exemplary leadership in the face of a very challenging situation, to promote you to Lieutenant Commander."

 _What?_ Did she hear that right? He looked at her steadily and she could see a slight grin on his face. She tried to school her face, "Thank you, sir."

"I can't think of anyone who deserves this more than you Kara," he told her seriously, all traces of levity gone. He extended his clenched hand over the desk and dropped gold oak leaf collar tags into her hand. "These were mine, passed down to me by the CO of the Ticonderoga. I'd be honored if you'd wear them."

She looked at the tags in her hand, bowled over by this gesture. _Now I know how Alisha felt_ , she thought, remembering her friend's face when the Captain had presented his lieutenant's bars to her when he promoted her to full lieutenant.

"T-Thank you sir," she replied, "I-It's a great honor."

"No, the honor's mine Commander," he told her, "You've done a fantastic job and you deserve this recognition. Can I give you a hand?"

"Yes sir," she replied, still flummoxed, and he had moved round the desk to help her pin the new tags to her collar.

"Keep those, Kara," he had suggested, pointing down at her lieutenant's bars, "When you're a CO one day I'm sure there'll be a deserving young officer you'll want to give those to."

 _The Captain thought she could be a Captain?_ Wow, she was totally flummoxed. Obviously, it was every young officer's dream to be Captain but there were lots of officers and not many ships. And for this Captain, who she really respected, to tell her that she could be a Captain one day, despite the pregnancy. Wow.

"Thank you, sir," she told him again, "For everything."

They had gone on to discuss the watch bills, manning levels, repairs, the imminent rendezvous with the British medical team and the current state of the wounded. Then he had dropped another bombshell.

"We haven't had a lot of luck with the Immune attacker. So far we only know he's British and he's called Ned. Can you have a crack at opening him up? You might consider using Rachel. Apparently she made quite an impression on him when she was fixing his wounds."

"An impression?" Could he be asking what she thought? That was totally out of order!

"No, not like that!" he was clearly shocked, "He's scared of her. Apparently, she had a few choice words for him while she was fixing his shoulder and his leg."

So, here she was, meeting Rachel outside the Brig.

* * *

They had agreed to wing it. Kara had introduced herself to the prisoner, only realising as she did that she would have to disclose her new rank. She had got a real thrill introducing herself for the first time as Lieutenant Commander Foster and Rachel had twitched at her side. It was when she'd introduced Rachel that things had gotten "interesting".

The prisoner had twitched in his bonds, "You're that bloody scientist bitch that invented the cure, ain't you?" he had bristled at her.

"Well, I am a scientist, and I did invent the cure," Rachel had replied, glaring at the prisoner as if he was something she found on the bottom of her shoe.

"Bitch! You ruined everything! Me and me brother had a great thing going."

"What, killing people who weren't immune?" Rachel practically spat at him, "Murdering scientists? You call that a great thing?"

"We're the Chosen! Chosen by God to survive this plague."

"That's total bullshit!" flared Rachel. Kara was enjoying this, and she could see that they were making progress. "You're a festering boil on the arse of humanity, is what you are!" she spat, "Chosen, my arse. You're lucky enough to have a genetic irregularity. One in a million chance of it. Great, you're immune to this virus," she shrugged her shoulders, "But you're not immune to everything. You still get flu, measles….Ebola."

Here she paused and now her expression was positively feral. "You're not immune to Ebola… I'm going to enjoy going to your trial for crimes against humanity. And when you're found guilty, I'm going to ask to be the one to pull the trigger," she paused and Kara could see the anger in her eyes, "But I'm not going to shoot you," she smiled dangerously, "I'm going to inject you with Ebola virus." She paused again as he cringed away from her, "And I'm going to enjoy watching you die, Ned the murderer," she said, enunciating every syllable, and staring inexorably into his eyes, "Enjoy watching as blood streams out of your eyeballs, as your internal organs explode, as you suffer for hours. And as you scream and plead with me to end it, I'm going to remind you of all the people who have died because you interfered. May your God have mercy on your soul!" she spat, swinging round and storming out of the room.

Kara looked at the prisoner. He was in pieces.

"Keep that bitch away from me!" he pleaded, "Please, I'll tell you anything. Everything. Just keep that bitch away from me. I don't want to die like that."

"OK, I'll see what I can do," she told him, sitting across from him, "But I suppose that depends on how much you tell us…"

* * *

 **13 February 2015**

"Steer two-eight-zero, ahead two thirds," the Captain ordered.

"Aye sir, steer two-eight-zero at two thirds," Danny repeated to the Helmsman. It had been quite some time since he had experience as Officer of the Deck but for the approach to Norfolk they were all a bit outside their comfort zones. Alisha was filling in as navigator and the bridge was understaffed as they made the penultimate turn before they swung round into the Naval Station.

Danny felt totally whipsawed by his experiences in the past week. On one side he was delighted for Kara's promotion. His girlfriend totally deserved that, he thought. After it had been announced, lots of people had come up to him to congratulate him on her behalf. Their stories of her coolness and leadership during the attack made him so proud of what she had accomplished. He didn't see much of her job on a day to day basis, but he knew she was highly respected by both her team and senior officers. The fact that she had been appointed acting TAO despite her pregnancy emphasised that. Before the Red Flu what they had done would be a career-ending event. For both of them. But now she was a Lieutenant Commander and XO of an Arleigh Burke class destroyer, and nobody could ever take that away from her.

But he was struggling to deal with all the losses. While they had been gone, their ship had been attacked. It was supposed to be those on land that were in danger, but while he was on a relatively simple mission on land, his girlfriend and his friends were fighting for their lives. And many of them had lost them.

Cosetti, the young kid who had volunteered for boarding duty after the Arctic and who was keen as mustard, had died protecting the Armoury; Maya Gibson, who Frankie had been sweet on despite the fact she had brushed him off about ten times for her boyfriend back in the States, died assaulting the Bridge, and Doc Rios, who had patched he and his friends up God knows how many times, was murdered in cold blood. And all while he hadn't been here to protect them.

Sure, rescuing the President was an important mission, but not as important as protecting his friends. And so many were hurt.

But many were still alive thanks to Rachel's efforts and the British medical teams. The Brits had ridden to the rescue and no-one else had died after Cosetti. They'd taken the experience which had made the Role 3 hospital at Camp Bastion into the most successful trauma hospital in the world and they'd applied that to Nathan James. And he was very thankful for that. Some of his crewmates wouldn't be coming back to the ship, but all the rest of them would survive for the next shift.

And now they just had to get into Norfolk and start delivering the injured to the old base hospital which was where the remainder of the British medical teams had set up.

"Slow to one third," called the Captain.

"Aye sir, slow to one third," he repeated. Nearly there.

* * *

 _Please review if you get a chance!_

 _A/N: You might think that the description of Rachel's condition when Tom sees her in the hangar sounds unrealistic, but I spoke to a British military surgeon who described conditions to me during the invasion of Iraq. They had no proper surgical gloves at all and were operating on battle casualties up to their elbows in blood._


	28. Protecting: Chapter 6

_I don't own The Last Ship_

 **Part 4: Chapter 6**

 **14 February 2015**

"Thank you for your help Captain. I wasn't sure I would ever get out of that cell alive."

"It was our pleasure Mr President," Tom replied, "I'm sorry that things haven't exactly been ideal since we got you back. I didn't expect to bring you back to a warzone."

Michener gave a small smile, "We don't make the rules Captain, we only play the game. You couldn't have known what was going to happen. I'm sorry that you feel you should have been on the ship, but I'm rather pleased that you weren't! Otherwise I might still be in that cell and Val would be dead."

"Yes sir." That was one way to look at it.

"I gather you've given the crew some downtime?"

"Yes sir," he replied, wondering where this was going.

"Well, I think you should take some yourself, Tom." The President's reply surprised him, "Take some time off, see your kids, get your ship stood down. I'm not going anywhere. When you've got things a bit more straight we can talk about future plans and about rebuilding the country."

He wouldn't fight that. It had been a tough few weeks. "Thank you sir," he replied.

* * *

 **15 February 2015**

He could tell straightaway that something was bothering her. She had just returned from a meeting with Connie Hu and had asked to see him as soon as she returned back on board.

They had arrived in the late-afternoon two days ago and spent most of the next 24 hours transferring the injured and the British medical staff. After that, they'd transferred the President, he'd given the crew some downtime and now they had started on assessing the damage to the ship and seeing what they could do about their personnel and material issues.

He was pretty swamped. It took time to co-ordinate with what was left of the base staff on repairs for Nathan James to make her seaworthy as soon as possible. And he had to start working on his reports for the President as well.

The fact that she hadn't waited the few hours until they normally met for dinner told him that whatever it was, it was urgent in her eyes. He took his time preparing her tea, freshly boiling the water just the way she liked it, before he walked over and placed it in front of her.

He went to sit at his desk and took a deep breath, "What's up Rachel?"

She looked up, running her finger over her lower lip thoughtfully. It was a major tell that something was bothering her.

"I think I need to leave Nathan James, Tom," she told him. _Straight to the point, as usual_. It wasn't like he hadn't seen it coming. There were only a few senior virologists left and no-one with her understanding of the virus, and there were starting to be some issues with resistance to the cure and strange side effects. "There's an issue in Denver, where the cure doesn't seem to be spreading properly, and in Wyoming there've been some odd side-effects.

"While we were spreading the Cure it was OK to pass those sorts of things off on someone else but I can't justify it while we're just sitting here Tom."

She cradled her tea in her hands almost lovingly, breathing in its scent. He smiled. She'd told him that she did that to get the tea-hit but to avoid burning her tongue. She didn't like scalding-hot tea but she did like the taste when the water was freshly boiled. He didn't get it, but it was almost a religion to her!

He didn't ask her if she was sure, although he wanted to. "Who's co-ordinating this?" he asked instead.

She pulled her attention away from her tea to focus on him, "Connie and the cure-dispersal team," she replied, "why?"

"So no-one's thought about security?" he queried, answering her question.

She smiled at him, "I guess not."

He sighed mightily, "God Rachel, how can you be so dense?" he told her, "We were just attacked by the Immunes in the middle of the ocean. What's to stop them coming for you in the middle of the country?" he asked, glaring at her exasperatedly. She had the decency to look embarrassed, "You're important to us Rachel. Not just to people as the scientist who invented the cure, but to those of us who know you as a dear friend." He let that sink in, still glaring at her but not quite so stringently, "I'll ask Green and Burk to co-ordinate a security detail for you."

"But won't they want to stay here?" she asked quickly.

"I'll need one of them here, but one of them will go with you. When will you be coming back?" _Would_ she be coming back? He hoped so. He didn't think he was ready to lose her so quickly.

She looked at him hopefully, "You said this morning that you reckoned the James would be viable to go to sea within two months. Did you mean that?"

That would be tight. But he still thought it was do-able. They only needed to repair some interior blast damage, some equipment issues in CIC and the Bridge, give the crew some time off and the injured some time to return. "Yes, it should be do-able. We need to find and sink that sub and then continue to distribute the Cure around the Gulf of Mexico. Should we be counting on the CDC's most famous virologist to join us for that leg of the trip or will I need to train a new virologist up?" he asked jokingly.

She grinned back at him, "Well, I wouldn't want you to have to go out of your way to have to train up another virologist Captain, and it would take me a long time to educate him or her to have to deal with all your foibles so why don't we just say that you can expect me back by then."

"Foibles, is it?" he enquired, "and what might my foibles be?"

"Oh, I don't know Captain, perhaps your penchant for attracting trouble? Your insistence on leading landing parties when you've got very capable subordinates? Your ignorance of medical instructions? Would those be a good start, Captain Chandler?"

Damn, she knew him well, but she hadn't finished. She raised an eyebrow at him, "I could've talked about your dismissal of scientific priorities but under my tutelage you've improved from a D minus to an A plus in listening to your resident scientific advisor, so I decided not to mention that. But see that you don't lapse Captain. We wouldn't want to have to start again, would we?"

"No Doctor, we wouldn't. I'll try my best to remember what I've learnt."

Damn, was she flirting with him? She was, he realised. But most importantly, he was flirting back. He was flummoxed. Rachel had become one of his best friends, to be sure. But Darien had only been dead a few months. What was he playing at?

"Good," she told him lightly, "We can revise at dinner this evening. Assuming we're still on?"

"Yes," he told her, slightly on auto pilot, as he tried to think about his revelation, "When are you leaving for good?"

"Day after tomorrow," she told him. "We've got to sort out some logistics, but I need to get moving ASAP."

"So soon," he didn't realise he'd spoken out loud.

"It's not goodbye, Tom," she told him, rising to her feet, "just farewell for now. See you later."

He bade her farewell, mind already racing onto the next problem of sorting out a security team for her. But a bit of his mind dwelled on the fact that Rachel was walking out of his life and he wasn't doing anything to fight it.

* * *

 **16 February 2015**

"Captain?" Foster asked. It was the end of their staff meeting the day after Rachel had dropped her bombshell about leaving. It had been agreed that Burk would lead her security team with Miller, Wolf, Tex, Ethan and Bivas. This core team would be built out with Navy SEALs and SpecOps from the Norfolk security teams. Green would stay behind to support Foster and deal with Nathan James security.

"A number of the crew have asked what time Dr Scott is leaving the ship tomorrow? I think they would like to do something special." Foster was doing well in her position as acting XO. He didn't want to think about having to replace her when she went ashore for her maternity leave, and he hoped Mike recovered before then. With the Master Chief also injured her role was vital at the moment but interestingly being more junior probably made her more approachable to the enlisted crew. He was sure that being likeable helped as well.

"I think if I ordered something special Commander, Doctor Scott would kill me. You know how she hates "formal"." He told her.

"Oh, I know sir," she told him, "but if something special were to just happen? Hypothetically, of course…" she asked, smiling at him hopefully.

Far be it for him to stand in the way of his crew. "Well, hypothetically, if something special were to "just happen", then I would suggest service dress blues and I would say around 11.00. Hypothetically, of course." He told her, grinning.

"Thank you. Hypothetically, sir." She replied and they both shared a knowing smile as she took her leave.

* * *

"Rach, could we have a chat?" It was their last evening together and he'd finally managed to screw up enough courage to speak to her about his feelings. Sure, they'd spoken a lot since she'd told him about her decision to leave, but only about their duty, their jobs. Reactions, not actions.

He'd wasted last night worrying about his reaction to the flirting and he knew she had known something was wrong from the questioning looks she'd shot him a few times last night. She'd left early, nominally to get on with her planning, but he knew he'd screwed up. He'd been planning this conversation in his head all night and she'd literally just walked through the door and sat down. She was late, which hadn't helped his nerves much either.

She looked up at him concernedly, taking a deep breath, "Tom, I'm really sorry if I hurt your feelings yesterday. That certainly wasn't my intention."

"No! I wasn't hurt Rachel," he told her, coming to sit beside her on the sofa. She pulled back in surprise. Normally he sat at his desk, but he needed to be close to her.

"I was worried I'd crossed a line," she told him.

He looked down, gathering his thoughts, and then back up at her. He saw her surprise when he reached out to take her hand. He wasn't one to initiate contact normally but he needed it for this. Her hand was warm and he smiled at her, hopefully.

"I'm sorry Rach, it was just I realised that we were flirting and that made me a bit uncomfortable."

 _Oh crap_ , he thought, _I could have said that better_. She looked confused and he ploughed on, gently massaging her wrist with his thumb to calm both her and him. He could feel the scar tissue from where her bonds had cut into her wrists on Vyerni. It made him angry and sad, protective and admiring all at once.

"Not like that!" he told her urgently, "not with you. With me." Why couldn't he speak today? He'd practised what he was going to tell her all last night. Hardly gotten any sleep. Now it had all gone out the window. _Just take a deep breath_.

"Sorry Rach, I know I'm not making much sense. Please just bear with me?" She nodded encouragingly and her hand grasped his gently.

"We didn't have a great start you and me, but when you were on Vyerni and I was reading your journals I realised I hadn't really given you a chance. When you got back, I hoped we could forge a friendship. And we did. And I was happy. And if Darien hadn't died that would have been great." He paused, trying to collect his words together, "But what scares me Rachel is that, even before Darien died, I was starting to have feelings for you that went beyond friendship." Her head shot up, her eyes locking onto his, but he ploughed on, "I didn't see it at the time, I didn't understand it, but now, looking back, I realise it's the truth. I had feelings for you then, just as I have feelings for you now Rachel, and they're deeper feelings than I had then, because I know you so much better now.

"We've talked more and we've laughed more and we've shared ourselves more in a way I didn't know was possible. I was married to Darien for 15 years but she didn't understand as much about my life in the Navy as you do. I loved her so much and still do.

"And that's my problem Rachel. I love Darien. But I also think I love you. I admire you and you're a great friend and support and you keep me honest and don't let me get a big head and you've got a great sense of humour and I feel you "get" me in a way that others don't."

"I don't understand Tom?" she had tears in her eyes and he felt like a complete idiot, "what are you saying?"

He reached out to wipe her tears away with his finger, "I'm saying – I'm not ready yet, but I don't want to lose you. If you could wait for me, I think I will be ready. Would you wait?"

He looked at her hopefully, dreading her saying no. "So all this was about you not being ready?" she asked, looking at him carefully.

"Yes," he replied.

"Well you've really put the fear of God into me in the last day Tom Chandler!" she snarked, "I thought you were upset with me."

"Not with you Rach, never with you. I was disappointed with myself." He told her.

"You never betrayed Darien, Tom," she told him, still staring into his eyes, "the man you are wouldn't have let you. And _I_ wouldn't have let you do it either."

He acknowledged that statement by dropping his eyes, wiping them, "I know, and I thank you, but I _felt_ like I had."

"I understand," she told him softly and he looked up, hopefully, questioningly. She shook her head, "was there ever any doubt Tom?" she asked. " _Of course_ I'll wait for you, you prat!" he gaped at her. "I've waited this long haven't I? I knew you needed time. Who wouldn't? I'm glad I haven't been imagining it though. I'd have been gutted if you were saying no." She smiled, in a more upbeat way. "Do you think two months might be enough time?"

He smiled at her, "I don't know," he told her, "but I hope so. I think I owe it to all of you – you, Dad, the Kids, to try and move forward."

"You don't owe anything to me Tom," she smiled sadly, "you got me off that ship. You gave me my life. You brought me back Connie, you gave me other friends. You don't owe me anything."

"You amaze me, you know Rachel?" because she did, "how can anyone who's so clever have such a small sense of self-worth? Fine, I got you off that ship. But there was a world to get back to because of what _you did_ on that ship. We found Connie again because of what you did there. You _made_ those friends because of who you are. Because you're this amazing person that doesn't give up. Vyerni was a shitty time. You pulled yourself together and got on with fashioning a life. I know for a fact that Kara and Alisha and Danny and Mike – they admire you so much because of how you conduct yourself. You never gave up. You just got on with living. And then we were in action and you weren't cowed by the Immunes. You just said "fuck that, I'm not going to let them win" and you waded in and saved lives. Even risking your own to do that. And afterwards you worked yourself into the ground for your friends. My crew love you for who you are Rachel. And that's why I love you too." He paused, quite surprised by his impassioned rant and looked at her as she sat stunned in front of him.

They stared at each other for what felt like hours and then she asked in a small voice, "Is that really how you see me?"

He grinned at her, "Well, I'm sure I see you a bit differently than the rest. I hope so, anyway," they shared a small smile, "but yes. We don't buy into the propaganda. Because we've seen the real you. We know how much it hurts you to lose a patient, how much of yourself you put into your job, whether that's medicine or science or whatever you happen to be working on at a time. That's why you're special to us. Special to me."

She stared at him questioningly for a moment longer, before leaning over slowly and kissing his cheek. "Thank you, Tom," she told him as he reached up to caress the spot where she kissed him, "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

Needless to say, dinner went very well. At about 22.30 she stood up to go. "Thanks Tom, for an amazing night," she told him, "you're a very special man and I hope that when I get back we can explore our relationship more fully."

He stood as well, agreeing with her, "Me too Rachel."

Shit, he needed to warn her about tomorrow. "Ugh, Rach?" he queried, "leaving the ship's quite a big thing for the crew. You don't have anything a bit more formal do you? I don't think jeans and a T-shirt will cut it."

"I thought you knew Tom, I'm not really the formal sort," she joked, quirking a smile at him, "and most of my clothes are buggered anyway - either your crew leaked on them or your ship…!"

What did she mean? Taking pity on his look of surprise she explained, "Sorry, that obviously didn't translate very well, I mean they've either got blood stains or oil stains on them." Looking at him again assessingly she took pity on him, "but I'll see what I can find. Don't want to upset the crew."

He stood and faced her, just at the door. "Good night Rachel," he told her.

"Good night Tom," she told him, leaning forward. They kissed on the lips. It wasn't a heavy kiss but it held the promise of so much more. They smiled at each other and then she turned and left.

* * *

 **17 February 2015**

"Enter" Tom looked up, unsurprised, and rose to his feet as Rachel came into his at-sea cabin, responding to his invitation. She was wearing black trousers and a cream jumper, but had formalised the ensemble by adding a bottle-green jacket. She stopped inside the door.

"What do you think?" she enquired. "It's the best I can do."

He smiled at her reassuringly, "You look great," he told her, and meant it. "Are you ready?"

She smiled up at him timidly, "No, I don't think I really am," she told him, looking at him in a way that made his heart melt. He came out from behind his desk and crossed the cabin to reach her, pulling her into a hug. "I thought I was," she continued, "the job's always been about moving around, after all. And it's not been a problem before, but it just feels wrong to go now, if you know what I mean?"

He hugged her again before pulling back, hands on her shoulders, and looking down into her eyes, "It feels like there's unfinished business here?" he questioned. It was, after all, how he felt as well. He allowed himself a quick moment to hope that she wouldn't go, before reality caught up. He knew she would go. People were dying out there and she could help them. She wouldn't be the Rachel Scott he knew if she didn't go.

She stared into his eyes, seemingly losing herself, "Yes," she said after a time. "The only way I can convince myself to go is by knowing I'll come back here."

"You'd better," he told her, trying for some levity, "otherwise I might have to throw my toys out of the pram!"

She smiled sadly, "Well we wouldn't want that."

"But," he told her more seriously, "there's something you need to know Rachel. You're one of us now. When you were kidnapped you weren't, but you are now. You're a part of the Nathan James family and you always will be. Irrespective of yours and my relationship, while any of us are in the US Navy you'll always have friends here. On whichever ship you happen to find yourself. Or on land..."

There was a knock at the door. He disengaged himself from her gently. It was Foster, as he knew it would be. He felt a momentary twinge at the absence of Mike, since he knew that he would like to have been here but, thanks to Rachel, he would be again. "Enter." He told Foster, moving back around his desk to snag his jacket.

"Your car is here, Rachel," Foster told her, entering and closing the door behind her. She looked very smart in her dress blues and Rachel whistled.

"Looking sharp, Kara," she told her, "is someone important coming?"

Foster looked up at him questioningly, but he just cocked his head at her. She could deal with this one!

"Nope," she addressed Rachel, "but someone important is leaving."

 _Uh oh_ , he thought as Rachel tensed and then crossed her arms across her chest, swinging round to glare at him, registering his formal jacket as well, "You knew I didn't want a fuss Tom!" she told him angrily.

He held up his hands defensively, hoping to fend off Hurricane Rachel, "I did, Rach, and I gave no order."

She glared at him, trying to ascertain whether he was telling the truth. Foster finally moved to defuse the situation by reaching out to take her hand, "The Captain's telling the truth Rach. We've given no orders. This is all on the crew. They wanted to show how much you mean to them. Please don't be angry. It genuinely is a gesture of respect."

She stared at Kara fulminatingly for a few seconds then she let out a huff and he knew the battle was over. "Fine," she snarked, "but you know I hate Dog and Pony shows!"

He couldn't help but smile, "Then you should stop putting yourself in positions where people feel beholden to you for saving their lives, or their friends' lives," he told her jokily.

"Don't think you're forgiven _Captain Chandler_ ," she told him, glaring, "even if you didn't order this, you clearly knew about it and you didn't warn me! You actually told me to dress up for it. You are so busted! And as for you, Missy," she exclaimed, rounding on Foster, who was trying to conceal a smirk, "you're equally busted. I'm going to find a way to pay you back. And you _won't_ like it!" she finished, threateningly.

Foster looked a bit cowed, but then she stood up tall, which could have been funny because she wasn't a tall woman. But then the Navy officer in her asserted herself, "I'm sorry Rach. But this is your fault. You put your life in danger to save the lives of our crewmates. On multiple occasions. That builds a bond between people. In the Navy we serve, and we have a code that governs our lives. Our code is about duty to our country, to our shipmates, and about honor. And you have that in spades." Foster was staring Rachel right in the face and Rachel was just standing there, transfixed. This wasn't the Kara Foster that she usually saw. But Tom recognised this Kara Foster. It was the one who he thought of as one of the outstanding young Naval Officers of her generation, not Rachel's friend. The one he saw in his CIC every day, but one that Rachel probably wasn't so familiar with.

"You came from outside the Navy, but you've embraced our code. On the Vyerni, you continued to serve, even though you were horrifically badly treated." Rachel's gaze dropped and Kara reached down to grasp her hands, insistently pulling Rachel's attention back onto her. "You came back to us," she continued gently, "and I know you had bad moments, and I know you still do, but you carried on serving. You refused to let the Captain offload you at Baltimore and you saved lives there. You could have left then, but you stayed. You worked with us to spread the Cure and then, during the attack, you put your life in danger again to save many of ours. Then you worked yourself into the ground to keep them alive.

"You may not be in the Navy, but you will always be our shipmate." Foster's eyes were at their most expressive then, boring into Rachel's as she unknowingly echoed what he had just said. "That's what the crew want to say and that's what I want to say. And I'm damned if you're going to make me feel bad about saying that. Because I'm your friend I get to say that to you face to face, but they can't. And this is their way of saying it collectively. Please don't take that away from them." He had never been prouder of one of his officers than he was of Kara Foster at that moment. She had said everything that needed to be said. And, as she continued to stare into Rachel's eyes, he knew the message had gotten across.

"Well said, Commander Foster," he told her huskily, coming up behind Rachel and gently gripping her shoulder, "I tried to tell Rachel that already, but you've just said it much more eloquently than I did. Maybe she'll finally start to believe it now?" he wondered, as Rachel turned towards him, surrendering Foster's hands. Foster's eyes were moist, but he was shocked to see tears cascading down Rachel's cheeks and he could see the emotions on her face as she physically fought herself not to hug him. He put her out of her misery by putting his arms around her and was pleased as she melded herself to him. He smiled over her head at Foster's involuntary gasp of surprise. "Sorry Kara," he told her, apologising for the PDA.

As he apologised, Rachel seemed to become rapidly aware that they weren't in private and quickly pulled back, wiping at her eyes, "Sorry," she mumbled, either to him or Kara, he wasn't sure. "Damn."

He and Kara shared a smile as she tried to pull herself together. "Now, if you're ready Rachel? It's time to go."

All things being equal, he thought Rachel had done well. For someone not comfortable taking compliments she really had done her best. She had missed a step as they had passed out of the helicopter hangar to see all the ranks of Navy blue standing at attention, but he rather thought that anyone would. But she had gamely kept at it. As she passed down the ranks of crew, stopping to exchange words with those she knew, he knew that the message of belonging was passed and received and as she'd paused at the brow of the gangplank and the ship's bell had sounded, and the 1MC had intoned, "Dr Rachel Scott, departing," he had had to fight to keep the tears from his eyes as he and his remaining officers saluted her.

She had smiled at them all sadly, sketched a wave and walked down the gangplank to the waiting SUV, and he couldn't help feeling that he'd lost a little bit of himself as she did. He knew she would be back, but in light of their conversations of the past few days, he was starting to understand just how much he would miss her while she was away. At least he knew that she _would_ come back. And he knew that he'd be kept busy while she was away. He turned back to his officers and crew. Green, Granderson and Foster looked contemplative. He nodded at them. "Let's get back to work. Dismissed."

* * *

"You OK?" Ravit asked.

She looked at the woman who was becoming one of her best friends. It was 15.30 and they were already aboard a Hercules, bound for Denver, Colorado. It had been a busy few hours since leaving the Nathan James. Everything she needed from her lab had been boxed up and transferred to the airport and Ravit had consented to go out and try and get some clothes and supplies for both of them while she had been dealing with other logistics issues. She knew that Tex, Ethan, Burk or Miller would have been useless in that department!

She and Burk had met with Connie and discussed the priority targets for her to visit over the next few weeks and they would operate a rolling priority list. Burk had been insistent that they built rest days into the schedule and she had agreed. Connie and her staff had been left to deal with the logistics of the trip.

And that had been just about all they had had time for. They had met up with the SEALs who would build out their security team (Tom had decreed that she had ten protectors with her at each destination), reclaimed Ravit, headed for the airport and checked out all of their stuff, and then taken off.

Now, an hour into the trip west, was the first time that she'd had to reflect on the day. And she was thinking about leaving Nathan James. And leaving Tom.

If she was honest with herself, she probably wasn't OK. It was difficult to underestimate what Nathan James had come to mean to her over the past few months. And Tom in particular. Because while the ship and her crew had always been there, Tom had been special. He had been her protector. He had rescued her from Vyerni and he had become her friend and she had come to rely on him. And now she felt a bit bereft. And she would have to face the next two months without him. But, she guessed, she needed to do this.

For someone that had always been so self-reliant before, this new, more-needy "her" was difficult to get to grips with. But, she thought, maybe the new "her" was a nicer person. The old "her" was more focused, less interested in people and people's concerns. By being part of Nathan James, by forging relationships, letting people in, needing to let people in to get over what happened on Vyerni, she guessed, maybe she had become a nicer person. She needed to find a balance, she decided, between the old mission-focused, get-it-done-at-all-costs Rachel, and the new, more-caring-but-also-homesick Rachel, but she thought she should be able to get there. And anyway, she had Ravit and Burk and Tex and Miller and Ethan and Wolf to remind her of her friends and Nathan James. But nobody could quite replace Tom.

She was conscious that Ravit was looking at her concernedly. She nodded slowly at her and the other woman smiled, "You know, it _was_ all down to the crew, your send off, if you were wondering."

She looked at Ravit, questioningly, "Sure, the officers knew about it, but the crew pushed it. They wanted to show how much you mean to them." Rachel felt the tears in her eyes again, and Ravit took pity on her. She'd been in pieces in the SUV as they left the ship. "How about, to show you how much you mean to _me_ , we do some sparring?"

Rachel looked at her, relieved with and grateful for the subject change, "What, so I can go from idol to punch bag?"

Ravit smirked at her, "Yeah, pretty much!"

"Thanks hon. That's the best offer I've had all day! Not…"

* * *

 _Please review if you get a chance!_

 _A/N So it just occurred to me that in the canon timeline this would be the end of series 2. The next section would sort of be series 2.5. There are still a few loose ends to tie up._


	29. Recovering: Chapter 1

_I do not own The Last Ship_

 **Part 5: Recovering**

 _ **Chapter 1**_

 **18 February 2015**

Tom gazed along the length of his ship from the pier. You couldn't see any damage from out here and she still looked OK. It was only inside where you could appreciate the damage. And, more importantly, what was missing. And who was missing.

To know that he'd never see Ruiz again when he went on to the bridge, or Barker when he went into CIC, never see Chief Lynn standing in engineering, never see Rios hovering around his MedBay, or any of the seventeen other members of his crew who had died. That was what he missed.

And then there were the ones that hopefully he would see again, but not for a while. Some of his most important support structures on board; Mike, Andrea Garnett and Russ Jeter.

And to know that the woman who had made it so he _would_ see those very special people again had also gone. And he'd let her. Because he couldn't get his head sorted out quickly enough. By this time she would probably be in Denver. Sowing her magic there the way she had here. He hadn't been able to stop her going but he _had_ made sure that she would have the best protection possible while she was away. That much was in his gift. He hoped she did what she needed to do and got back safely because he didn't think he'd be able to face himself if something happened to her and she didn't get back.

"Ready, sir?" It was Foster. Green and Granderson stood slightly behind them, ready to present a united front. The Captain, XO and the sole remaining senior officers. They and the remaining fit crew were off to see something that you didn't see every day; the inauguration of a new president. Jeffrey Michener would become the 47th President of the United States.

He turned to Foster, "Yes, XO. Let's go."

* * *

 **19 February 2015**

"I think we've just about finished up with interrogating Ramsay, sir," Danny reported, "We can hand him over to the FBI or Secret Service or whatever."

"Sit down you two," he told them. They were in his office, two days after Rachel left. Not that he was counting, of course. "Coffee?" he asked Green, already offering a jug of cold water to Kara Foster. She smiled in thanks as Green accepted a coffee. "It's FBI actually. A group of them came in over land from Chicago and we picked up a few from Quantico. Now the President's here we're starting to set up a proper Federal infrastructure again."

He sat back in his chair, "So what have you got?"

"Well, the first thing I have to mention is he's still scared shitless of Doctor Scott. I didn't have the authority to do a plea bargain, obviously, but the only thing I had to promise was that we wouldn't let Rachel infect him with Ebola!"

He nearly spat out his coffee, "Ebola! Seriously? Rachel threatened him with Ebola? You didn't tell me that Kara."

"It was really quite scary Captain," Foster replied, smiling, "It's funny in retrospect, but at the time I actually thought she might do it, and he was convinced she would. She had big eyes and she looked absolutely feral. She spelled out in detail what would happen to him, even down to blood streaming out of his eyeballs!"

"Wow, I didn't think Rachel had it in her!" exclaimed Danny.

"Don't underestimate her. That day she was one scary woman," Kara told her boyfriend, " _I_ would've told her what she wanted to know!"

"Amen to that," he quirked a smile and then turned to face Green, "So anything about the sub?"

"Aye sir," replied the man, "She's a Trafalgar Class SSN. She was HMS Torbay."

"Shit!" he exclaimed.

"Bad news?" asked Danny.

"Pretty much," replied Kara, "She's not brand new but she's active service and she carries Tomahawks and Spearfish torpedoes. They're good subs. The only possible positive for us is that they've had some nuclear plant issues over the past few years and that might make her noisier and easier to track."

Danny stared at her in surprise, and she retorted, "What? I was the acting TAO and our only likely opponent was going to be a submarine. _Of course_ I read up on different sub classes!"

Tom hid a smile. Yet more evidence that Kara Foster was a damn fine Navy officer, "I concur with your conclusions Kara. Anything more on the sub or personnel?" he asked Green.

"Yeah, a bit actually," Green told him, reading from his notes, "It turns out that he was a sub-lieutenant on the boat and that his brother was an engineering officer, a lieutenant-commander. It was Ned's first cruise on a sub; he'd been in surface ops until then. They're both immune and Ned was in a complete panic - everyone else on board died. His brother Sean took over and reassured him they would save themselves. They managed to make contact with other Immunes and Sean started styling it as some sort of act of deliverance. Most of the guys on the sub now are mercs but most of the people on land who follow them are what he calls "true believers"."

"Ugh," he commented, thinking of the Middle East, "that's got bad connotations."

"Agreed. But this is quite important. At the beginning they were recruiting really well. They had operations in the UK and the southern US but when we took the cure to the UK they lost most of their support base overnight. They tried to attack the UK vaccine manufacturing operations but the Brits had them too well-hidden, and then they attacked Heathrow but didn't manage to do as much damage as they wanted.

"They had to go and reload missiles, and they only just got out of Faslane before the Brits re-established control, so they refocused on the US. And, apparently, it was going great until in early-January someone started circulating the BBC World Service transmissions…"

"Valkyrie?" he asked. Wow, if that was true she really had done them a favour.

"Probably," replied Green, "Since then it's been tough for them to recruit and they've been suffering a drop off in "true believers", and they've been having harassment actions against them. They're still strong in Florida, but they've pulled back from Alabama, Georgia and Louisiana. And The Voice of America was the last straw. Apparently, Rachel's broadcast at the end of January was massively destructive to what they were doing and they lost a lot of support and their support base is really falling away."

"Wow, the power of the press!" observed Foster, "or rather the Power of the Brit!"

"Do you think Rachel will do more press for us?" observed Green, not totally jokingly.

He held his hands up, "If you want it, you get to ask for it!" he told the man, "but make sure you wear your body armour!" They all grinned, imagining just such a scenario.

Green's face took on a more serious look, "Unfortunately we also have confirmation that it was their group that attacked the labs and eminent virologists, Captain. Apparently, a secondary network of labs was set up after the first group was taken down, but Ned thinks they got most of those as well. They were lucky enough to raid a lab in Jacksonville that had details of the rest on a secure server. It's confirmed that it was them that attacked Fort Detrick and Porton Down."

"Damn," These people were scum. They deserved to be tried for crimes against humanity. "Did he say where he thinks the sub will go?"

"They have a base near Miami. He thinks they'll probably go down there to re-provision and gather some more personnel."

"We'll have to go down there at some point. But the sub could be anywhere. I think we'll have to carry on with humanitarian operations and let them come to us," he mused, "OK, good work both of you. I'll discuss this with the President and keep you updated."

"Aye sir," they both replied

* * *

 **2 March 2015**

"Have a seat Kara," he invited.

"Thanks, sir," she replied, "he's really kicking today."

He smiled sympathetically, "Water?"

"Thanks," she replied, trying to make herself comfortable.

He waited for her and then broached the subject of the meeting, "So, have you managed to get all the after-action reports collated?"

"Yes sir," she replied, "I finally got in to interview the Master Chief the day before yesterday and he was the last one I had to speak to." He was pleased; Russ's injuries had been very complex and he'd been unconscious for over a week after the attack.

"So I've collated all the reports, sir," she told him, "and I've got the initial medal citations sorted out as we discussed." He smiled. She was doing a damn good job as XO and he was going to be sorry to lose her when she went on leave. "But there is one thing that came up in the Master Chief's report. There was an inconsistency with Lieutenant Bivas' report but I've followed up with her and she confirms that the Master Chief's version was correct."

What was this? "What's it about?" he queried.

Kara pursed her lips, "It's about Doctor Scott, sir," she sighed. "It only came up because the Master Chief recommended her for a Navy Distinguished Civilian Service Award." He raised his eyebrows. "I know," she commented, "I had to look it up! The problem is there isn't really an award that covers what she's done, apart from the Presidential Medal of Freedom or the Congressional Gold Medal, and those aren't really in our remit to award. There is a clause in this award definition that cites unusual acts of heroism.

"The other issue is why he felt she needed to be awarded this medal," she gave him a humorous look, "It won't be a surprise to you that she was disobeying orders!"

No, that wasn't a surprise! "Whose?" he asked.

"Mine," she laughed, "It was when she went down with Bivas to get to the Master Chief's party towards the end of the incursion. I told her not to do anything stupid and Ravit to take care of her. It turns out that her definition of not stupid includes things that most people's doesn't!" she smiled ruefully and then continued at his questioning look, "Like running down a p-way in a crossfire to get to your crewmates to treat them!"

He looked at her, stunned, "What?" He was both amused and angry. _Why did she risk her life like that? Damn that woman._

"If she hadn't done it, we would have lost the Master Chief," she told him, "She knew that. She told Bivas she had to go, or he would die. That's how Bivas justified it to me."

He couldn't help but smile. "At least it's not just my orders she disobeys. I thought it was just me."

She looked at him ruefully, "She once told me that following orders wasn't her forte."

"No shit." Now he shook _his_ head ruefully, "OK, was that the only surprise from what we've discussed before?"

"Yes sir," she replied.

"OK, leave it with me, I'll go over everything and send the final report to the President's Office." His final report would also include a section and recommendations about the actions of one Kara Foster, but she didn't need to know that.

* * *

 **18 March 2015**

"Welcome back Mike," he told his XO and friend, "It's good to have you back."

"Good to be here Tom," It wasn't like they hadn't seen each other, after all. He'd been in to see Mike in hospital once he regained consciousness and he and the kids had been regular visitors at the Slattery house during Mike's recovery period.

"I hope you've caught up on your beauty sleep, because there's lots to do!" he told his friend. "How's the rehabilitation going?" Mike still wasn't 100% but he was cleared for light duty. You could tell he wasn't quite right. He'd lost quite a bit of weight and he favoured his right side, but Nicky Etherington was back and she had a lot of the returning wounded crewpeople on customised programs in the gym. The Major promised that she'd have his people back to full fitness before Nathan James was due to resume her voyage on 20th April. She had assured him she wasn't coming with them this time!

The Major was part of the remnants of the deployed British medical team. While they had found a few US military medics over the course of their virus-relief work they were by no way up to a full complement, even for the base hospital here. A number of the British medical team had volunteered to stay behind until they had enough US expertise to maintain a viable solution. Just one more example of the increasingly close relationship between the US and UK since the virus.

"It's possible I didn't cut Rachel enough slack when she was going through this," the XO commented, "That woman is horrific. It's like having a second Christine!"

"I'll make sure not to tell either of them you said that!" he told Mike, who groaned.

"So what's the news?" Mike asked, shifting in his chair, "Have you heard from Rachel?"

"Yes, I got an email from her yesterday," he replied, "It sounds rather like what we were doing on the east coast. They fly into a city, spread the cure, make sure there's enough C&C in place and head out after a few days. She said it's still as heartbreaking as it was before. The cities are still basically morgues but mortality rates in the burbs and in the country are much lower. There've been a couple of cases of faulty batches of Cure which have caused complications as well."

"Missing her?" Mike asked.

He smiled sadly. He wasn't sure if Mike was teasing or not but he decided to answer truthfully, "Yes, I am actually. She and you were the only ones on board who really know me. You're the only ones who treat me like a human being, not as Captain. Foster's a good kid but she doesn't have the history you and I have and she…" he was going to say that she didn't have the experience that Rachel had, but it was more than that, "she's just not Rachel."

Mike smiled sadly, "I understand. Though thank God she's not Rachel, otherwise she'd probably be in command by now!" They both grinned, "But since I'm such a good person, I'll do my best to take the piss out of you enough for the both of us!"

"Thanks XO," he replied ironically, "You're too kind."

Mike shifted, and assumed his "getting down to business" face, and he knew the banter part of the conversation was over.

"So what's the situation with personnel?" he asked.

"Well," Tom replied, "Garnett is already back, as is Mason and he's promoted to lieutenant, Green knew a good Corpsman so he's coming in to replace Rios. Russ should be back end of next week so we should be able to start whipping them into shape again. I'm seeing potential replacement TAOs this afternoon, and that should be in your calendar as well…"

* * *

 **26 March 2015**

"Dr Hu's office."

"Hi, could I speak to Dr Hu please? It's Commander Tom Chandler," he was struggling to keep his voice calm and not bite the receptionist's head off.

"Oh, certainly Commander, I'll just get her." He thanked the man and waited for a few seconds.

"Something up Commodore?" It was not Hu's voice but another well-known one.

"Tex? I was trying to get hold of Connie. Wait, I thought you were with Rachel? Is everything OK?" he hadn't heard anything.

"Relax Commodore," the man replied in his chilled out voice, "The Little Lady's fine. And everything's brilliant. When we were down south a few days ago Rachel insisted that we went searching for my daughter Kat. Unfortunately her Mom didn't make it, but Kat was good and we brought her back with us. Rachel insisted I brought her back here. Said the road's no place for a teenager."

"That's great news Tex, I'm really happy for you." And it was, and he was.

"Thanks Tom, I'm pretty chuffed too," the man replied.

"Chuffed? What the Hell is chuffed?" he wondered.

"It's a British-ism. Must have picked it up from your girlfriend! Means pleased."

He sputtered, "My girlfriend? Who do you mean?"

"Me thinks you doth protest too much Commodore," teased the annoying man, "I'm not in your chain of command. And I've got eyes." Just as he was going to deny it again the man shocked him, "She really misses you, you know?" It sent a wave of warmth through him. "When she gets an email from you, she lights up like a Christmas tree. You can see the smile on her face." He was glad he was alone in his office as he was sure he was wearing a goofy smile.

There was talking at the other end of the line. "See you soon Commodore. My delightful other half is here."

His "Bye Tex" was drowned out as an energy-filled voice asked, "Tom, what's up?"

Back to business, "Connie, I got the memo today about the virologist. I thought Rachel was coming with us? When she left, she was planning to come back out with us. What's happened? Why do we get this Ross Welsh guy instead?" He just couldn't help it. The annoyance had been building since he got the memo and he just couldn't stop the words coming.

She was silent for a few seconds, which was most unlike Connie Hu, "Connie?" he questioned.

"Uh- Sorry Tom. You don't want Dr Welsh?"

"I thought we were getting Rachel? I don't know if you understand Connie, but Rachel has a really special place in the hearts of the crew. She sent us to contact the Brits after the Vyerni and we rescued her from the Russians and everybody saw what the cost was to her of what she did. And since then she's been our shipmate and our doctor and our friend. She saved forty of my crew's lives when we were attacked, and she worked herself into the ground to do it. We don't get that with any other virologist."

"I understand that Tom," _Obviously not, if you're not sending us Rachel_ , "But Rachel's flat out at the moment. It's not her choice. She wants to be with you, and I think we can get the schedules to work for later in your trip but for now, it's got to be Dr Welsh."

He sighed, "Well if we can't get Rachel what about one of the other docs? That guy Milowsky is Navy. What about him?"

"I'm afraid Doctor Milowsky is a specialist on vaccine manufacture. We need him where he is. Dr Welsh's team is one of our best. He comes highly recommended. And he's British as well."

"Oh come on Connie, can't you reorganise the schedules?" he pleaded.

"Tom, I know Rachel's your friend and you're hers, but you do remember we're dealing with an Apocalypse here? We have to deploy the teams that are available, and the Welsh team is one of our best. Now is there anything else Captain?" Her voice was unyielding and he realised he'd pushed as far as he could.

Damn! "No, I guess not Doctor. Thank you."

This was a major disappointment. Because he was done thinking. He needed Rachel to be back here.

He'd thought about her a lot over the past five weeks since she'd been away. He'd pictured her in his head. One of the first pictures that came into his head was her in surgical scrubs treating the wounded after the attack.

Not the image of her exhausted face and blood-covered scrubs. He was keen to push that image away, for many reasons. No, this had been a few days after the attack, after the arrival of the British medical team. She had been standing in the corner talking to one of the British medics when he had entered the Hangar Bay. He had looked over and seen her, and he was struck by how gorgeous she had looked. Her hair was freshly washed, drawn up in a ponytail and trailing down her back. She was too far away for him to see the tiredness around her eyes, but his own eyes had been drawn to how well she filled out the scrubs, and a totally inappropriate question had hit him. _I wonder if she's wearing a bra?_ He had been internally shocked and had immediately moved to focus on anything else, but now he kept being drawn back to that image of her in his subconscious.

That image also had other connotations which seemed to sum up Rachel in his thoughts. She had cared for his crew and she had cared for him physically when he'd been injured, and mentally when he'd needed her as well, and she had cared for his kids and his father physically and mentally as well. Here was a woman who cared about him and all who were dear to him. And here was a woman that was easy to care for and love. Here was a woman who cared, full stop. Rachel had more empathy for the people of the world than anyone he had ever met. She was a good person. Sure, she wasn't always easy to be with, but she'd changed since the Vyerni. A lot of her hard edges had been eroded and she was a different person, a more accessible person.

And he realised that he loved her. Body and spirit, he loved Rachel Scott. He had accepted it now, and he just wanted to tell her that. And that was why he was so disappointed that she wouldn't make it back to Norfolk by 20th April.

* * *

 **11 April 2015**

 _Ding Ding, Ding Ding, Ding Ding, Ding Ding_ , "United States, arriving," the tannoy intoned, and Tom stood to attention and saluted, as did the rest of the crew arrayed behind him on the flight deck. "His Royal Highness, King Henry, arriving."

The President had asked for this ceremony two weeks ago and it had been two weeks of flat-out activity as they worked on Nathan James' refit, as well as tidying her up for the President and the King. But now the ship gleamed inside and out, and had had a fresh coat of paint as well. The President had asked to address the crew and had asked that crew's families be accommodated as well, so his Dad and kids were here, as well as Mike's family and many others.

And they had welcomed others back to be with the crew. Tex was here, standing with Danny Green's team and wearing a smart suit, and Kara Foster was here, wearing the uniform of a Lieutenant Commander and standing with the ship's tactical department, next to the new TAO LCDR Alison Wells. And unexpectedly Rachel had sent Burk and Miller back to be here for this ceremony although she hadn't come herself, which he was a bit disappointed about. Burk had explained that she had planned to be here, but that an emergency in Des Moines had sent her there instead.

He stepped forward to receive the President, who was accompanied by his Chief of Staff Bill Wang. A woman called Alison Shaw had held that position for about two weeks, but the Secret Service had developed some bad intelligence on her and she had been replaced and taken into custody. While one didn't exactly interrogate the President when he asked to visit one's ship, he had done a little bit of investigation to find out the reason for the visit. And come up with a blank. No-one was talking, including Kara Foster who was the President's Armed Forces liaison.

"Welcome Mr President," he told the man.

"Morning Tom," the President replied, "Still wondering?" he enquired cheekily, and Tom looked askance at the man, "Don't worry, all shall be revealed soon." And he smirked at Tom, before turning to introduce the man who had come up behind him, "Your Highness? It is my great pleasure to introduce Commander Tom Chandler, Captain of the Nathan James."

Tom saluted, noticing Brigadier Wilkins standing behind his Highness. _What's going on here?_ He thought. "Welcome aboard, your Highness. It's a great honor to have you here."

The man extended his hand and he returned the gesture, surprised by the King's strong grip, and even more surprised as he brought his other hand round to clasp Tom's hand in both his, "No, the honour is all mine, Captain," the King told him, "Brigadier Wilkins, Colonel Richardson and Major Etherington have told me lots about you and your crew. It genuinely is an honour to be here and to meet the crew who brought us the Cure. It's only disappointing that Doctor Scott couldn't be here as well."

He smiled sadly, "Yes sir, she's greatly missed."

"She is, Captain," agreed the President, "but I'm sure she's here in spirit. Now shall we get this Dog and Pony show out the way so that we can go somewhere less formal?"

"Agreed," said his Highness and so he led the honoured guests to the podium and the President stepped up as he went back to stand with Mike.

"Good morning Nathan James!" The President greeted, "It is a great pleasure for me to be here to speak to you today. And also an honor. This ship, and this crew, is now famous the world over for your achievements, and deservedly so. I have to say that the ship looks fantastic today. Totally different from how she looked the last time I was aboard!

"However, I'm also conscious that what I'm going to say is likely to disappoint some of you who've worked so hard to tidy the ship up, particularly those of you who did the paintwork…" he paused while everybody tried to make out what he was driving at.

"In my previous life in Washington I wasn't too au fait with Naval affairs and when I took over this job, I asked around for people who were. You see over the past few months I've spent a lot of time catching up on what happened while there was no government in this country, as well as working on building a new one. One of the things I've done is read a lot of after-action reports from Nathan James' ship's officers, and also compared notes with our allies," he inclined his head towards the King, standing beside him.

"What you, as a ship and as a crew, have achieved over the past eleven months has been frankly astonishing. Now, I know that if an individual sailor does a great job, you give him or her a medal. But what do you do for a ship? And do you give a medal if you're not in a war? Well the second question's the easiest to answer, because I think you'll all agree, we _are_ in a war. A war where the prize isn't victory. It's survival. Survival of the Human race and survival of our way of life. And because of your work we are doing well in our war. We haven't won it yet, because there are still people dying, but we've had some notable victories along the way, and we _are_ winning.

"In fact Dr Hu of the CDC shared a map with me yesterday which shows the extent of our success. For the first time the continental United States has as much clear area as infected area. Now that is a battle won!" They all cheered.

"But back to my conundrum. Fortunately, a little birdie in my office told me that there _is_ a way to honor an entire ship's crew. And that's where my comment about paint jobs comes in, because I'm afraid yours is out of date, because as of today I am awarding USS Nathan James a Presidential Unit Citation for this crew's heroism in bringing the Cure for the Red Flu to the World and, in addition, I am awarding an additional Navy Unit Commendation to the ship for your work in spreading the cure and re-establishing order throughout the United States. Congratulations to each and every one of you. Without your fantastic work, I am confident in saying we would not be here."

They cheered then. Tom wondered how had the President kept this quiet? Foster must have been the "little birdy". In fact, he was sure of it. She had hidden it from him as well. He thought about trying to keep the broad grin off his face but decided that just this once he could be seen to be happy, for his crew and for himself, because what they had done _was_ special, and he was pleased it would be recognised.

The cheering died down as the President remained at the podium and he spoke again. "Now, unfortunately someone very special was supposed to be here today but couldn't make it. I want you all to know that she tried as hard as she could to be here, but that there is an emergency in Des Moines and she had to be there. She has, however, sent a message."

He signalled to Bill Wang, who in turn signalled to a seaman standing on the corner of the deck. There was a crackling of speakers and then a very familiar voice came across the speakers, "Good Morning Nathan James, this is Doctor Rachel Scott," Tom jerked as Rachel's beautiful British accent spilled out of the speakers and he smiled as he heard Sammy in the crowd exclaim "Rachel!".

She continued, "I, along with Lieutenant Bivas and Senior Chief Taylor, am sorry that we can't be with you for this very special day today. We had hoped to be there, but unfortunately an emergency has arisen and we can't make it. But please know that, even though we may not be with you in the flesh, our hearts and our spirits are with you. Nathan James is our home and you are our family and friends, and no-one deserves these awards and recognition more than you.

"Although the others joined later I've been through many bad times and good times with all of you. I'll always be grateful to you for chasing me all over the Atlantic and coming to rescue me from the Vyerni. While we didn't necessarily get on well before I was kidnapped by the Russians, we certainly came to appreciate each other's company more when I returned," Tom was unable to hide a snort at the sarcastic humor in her voice, as she continued, "and I feel that we've really bonded since that time. I've been lucky enough to be the recipient of your professional approach to your work when I was on the Vyerni, but also to work alongside you and admire your professionalism first hand since rejoining the crew. I strongly believe that no other crew in the US Navy could have accomplished what you have all accomplished and I thank God every day that I was assigned to Nathan James and not some other ship, otherwise I do not believe we would all be here now.

"We hope that you all enjoy your day and we look forward to admiring the new paint job the next time we see you, hopefully from land so that we can share a beer or a glass of champagne with you! Godspeed Nathan James."

Tom was hard-pressed to keep the tears from his eyes as the voice of the woman who he had now admitted he loved faded from the speakers. Judging from the comments he heard behind him from the crew they were also touched by her words.

The President paused for a few minutes before telling them, "Now I believe His Highness has a few words to add."

The King stepped up, "Thank you Mr President. Thank you to all of you as well for entertaining me today," he gave a broad smile, "Now, I won't go on long. I'm not a politician and as a military officer I've been where you're standing as well!" Many smiled at this, remembering the King's oft-discussed service in Afghanistan, "I want to re-iterate the President's thanks for a job well-done and add my own.

"Nathan James arrived in UK waters on the 1st of December 2014. We were struggling. I don't know how much longer we could have held on for. Britain is a much smaller country than the United States and with fewer natural resources, smaller land area and high population density. I think that if it had taken three months' longer, Britain as a country would no longer exist. You made it possible for our country to survive and we can never repay that debt.

"But we can acknowledge it." He paused, looking around and his eyes finally settled on Tom, "The George Cross is our highest award for conspicuous courage and gallantry not in the presence of the enemy. It has been awarded to many outstanding men and woman since its establishment in 1940. It was awarded to the island of Malta during the Second World War, an island that endured a long period of sustained action and refused to give up. I'm sure that you can see the similarities with your situation. We have been in discussion with the President and we cited the example of many of the most senior American general officers who accepted knighthoods after the Second World War. The President has agreed that we may make a unit award of the George Cross to the USS Nathan James. Thank you for your service, on behalf of a grateful ally."

Tom stood stunned. It was too much. He had studied the history of Malta during World War 2 when he had been at the academy and to receive the same award as they had, plus a Presidential Unit Citation and a Navy Unit Commendation, all on the same day, was just totally unprecedented. But it seemed His Highness was not finished.

"Captain Chandler, will you approach please?" he requested, and Tom marched up to the podium. Would they give the medal to him on behalf of the crew? An aide stepped around the podium and placed a cushion on the floor in front of the King. "Kneel please Captain," requested His Highness as Tom reached him. Tom stared at him, wondering what was happening, as Brigadier Wilkins marched towards the King, carrying a beautiful sword balanced horizontally across his hands. _No way_.

"Commander Thomas Chandler," the King intoned, "You have done more than anyone, with the exception of one other, to bring The Cure for the Red Flu to the world. The President has agreed that you be offered an honorary knighthood as a gesture of thanks, on behalf of the British Nation." He gently took the sword from the Brigadier, who was grinning at Tom, and lightly touched it on each of his shoulders. "Arise Sir Thomas Chandler, Knight, Commander of The Most Honourable Order of the Bath."

* * *

 **20 April 2015**

He looked at his watch. It was 13.00 and they were just drawing their senior staff meeting to a close. The new virologist had still not arrived. Apparently there had been some problem with flights. They were planning to get underway at 14.30. If the man couldn't make it in time, then he'd just have to catch up in a chopper. He was fucked if he was going to wait for him.

"Mike, could you just call Connie Hu and chase Dr Welsh?" he asked.

"Sure, Captain," The XO replied, going to the phone on the bulkhead.

"In the mean-time does anybody have anything else that we need to cover?" he paused and looked round his department heads. He was pleased that his team was back together. Only Kara Foster was missing of his senior staff. She had been replaced by Lieutenant Commander Wells, an ASW specialist, but she was in CIC dealing with some last-minute setup issues and had had to miss the senior staff meeting.

"He's arriving now, Captain," The XO reported. "If it's OK with you, I'll go and welcome him aboard and bring him down here?"

He inclined his head minutely. He still wasn't happy with this. He wanted Rachel back and didn't want to have to deal with this interloper. "That'll be fine XO. We'll stay here to meet him before we go and prepare to get underway." As Mike left, he looked at the others, "Help yourselves to refreshments," he told them. There was no need to stand on ceremony while he waited for this idiot to deign to arrive. To be fair, he was sure the new guy was fine. Connie Hu wouldn't have given them someone who wasn't after all, but it just stuck in his craw that it wasn't Rachel. Connie had said that when Rachel became available it might be possible to do a swap, but she was certain that Tom would be happy with Dr Welsh. He seriously doubted it. Both professionally and personally no one was going to live up to Rachel and he knew he wasn't the only one in the crew who thought that way.

He was just talking to Andrea about some of the watch changes in her department when there was a knock at the door.

 _At least he's polite_ , Tom thought, "Enter!" he called.

He turned around just as the door opened and the long-awaited, and long-dreaded virologist, finally entered and stated "Doctor Ross Welsh, reporting for duty Captain."

* * *

 _A/N 1: In the episode Solace, where we see the Ramsays for the first time, Ned is wearing the single stripe of a sub-lieutenant which is a junior RN rank equivalent to Lieutenant JG in the US Navy and his brother, although significantly older, is wearing the rank of Lieutenant, which is comparable to the US rank. Either Sean was a lousy officer or they got his rank wrong on the show, which is what I've assumed._

 _A/N 2: A knighthood isn't just a knighthood. There are different levels. Currently there are six orders of chivalry and four orders of merit. And within each order there are also different ranks. The Most Honourable Order of the Bath was established in 1725 and as a Commander, Tom is at the second level (below Knight Grand Cross). The order was previously awarded to General Dwight D. Eisenhower, General Douglas MacArthur after WW2 and General Norman Schwarzkopf and General Colin Powell after the Gulf War._


	30. Recovering: Chapter 2

_I do not own The Last Ship._

 **Part 5: Chapter 2**

 **20 April 2015 (continued)**

 _He was just talking to Andrea about some of the watch changes in her department when there was a knock at the door._

 _At least he's polite, Tom thought. "Enter!" he called._

 _He turned around just as the door opened and the long-awaited, and long-dreaded, virologist finally entered and stated "Doctor Ross Welsh, reporting for duty Captain."_

* * *

Doctor Ross Welsh _was_ British. That much he could tell from the accent.

But that's as far as what he was expecting of him went.

Because Doctor Ross Welsh wasn't a "him" at all.

In fact, _he_ was a she.

And _she_ looked remarkably similar to Doctor Rachel Scott. Who was smirking at him with an unmistakable shit-eating grin.

"Wha-?" he managed.

"Honestly, didn't you get the memo?" she asked pithily.

His eyes snapped to the doorway as a belly laugh showed that Mike was pissing himself laughing behind Rachel, but at least he knew he wasn't the only one caught out by this little charade as the stunned silence behind him was pierced by Danny Green asking, "Rachel?"

Green was many things, but he wasn't that great an actor to get so much surprise in his voice.

He looked at Rachel again to make sure she was still there. She smiled at him softly, "Surprise!" she said, then obviously a bit put out by his lack of reaction, "I hope it's a good one."

However pissed he was with her for putting one over on him again, he was delighted to see her so he just told her, "Yes," before wrapping her up in a hug. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, but he couldn't say any of them in this company.

"Sorry," she whispered in his ear, as he revelled in the feeling of holding her in his arms, "but when Connie told me you got the wrong end of the stick the whole joke just took on a life of its own."

Puzzled, he pulled back, only to be surprised as Andrea cut in, "Captain, we think we've been very patient. It's our turn, please!" With that, his normally shy and unassuming Chief Engineer just about barged him out of the way and swept Rachel up into a huge hug. She was followed by the Master Chief and then by Danny Green who lifted her in the air and swung her around.

Mike, who had closed the door, also dived in for a bear-hug. "In case no-one mentioned it, welcome back Rachel," he told her, "you were missed. The Captain's been giving birth to kittens at the thought of not having you here."

"Well," she said, extracting herself from Mike and smiling sweetly at Tom, who was surprised to see tears in her eyes, "The Captain should learn to read his memos then, shouldn't he? I told him I'd be back and I am."

"Eh?" he asked, "But I did. It said that Doctor Ross Welsh would be the virologist assigned to Nathan James."

She took a deep breath and looked at him pityingly. "There were a few before that, _Sir Tom_ …" Her British accent made that sound so sexy and it cut right through him, breaking through his anger and confusion. "Congratulations by the way," she said, looking directly at him, "And sorry to all of you that I couldn't make it," she told the others, looking around the room, "We really, really tried."

"We missed you Rach," Mike told her seriously, "But we understood, and thanks for the message you sent. Mind you," he observed, grinning at her playfully, "Are you sure you weren't just trying to avoid HRH?!"

"No comment!" she replied in the same vein, tapping her nose with a finger.

"You know he's going to catch up with you eventually, don't you?" Mike questioned as she groaned. Mike had hypothesised to all and sundry that she had missed the presentation because she was avoiding King Henry and his gift box. His Highness had made it very clear when he spoke to Nathan James' officers after their presentation that he planned on acknowledging his country's debt to Rachel Scott in as public a way as possible. Knowing her as they all did, they were convinced she would hate that and was consequently avoiding the most senior surviving member of the British Royal Family.

"What do you mean, previous memos?" he asked, coming back to her answer.

She looked at him again pityingly, "Well duh, Captain!" she told him as someone behind him stifled a laugh, "You were the one harping on about security. You said "Rachel Scott" would be a target. We all agreed." She said slowly, as if to a child, "We listened to you." Here she tilted her head to the side and looked at him, "We made Doctor Ross Welsh my security code name."

"Oh shit…" Danny chortled from behind him and he heard the Master Chief guffaw.

"Cat got your tongue Captain?" she enquired. _Oh shit is right_. He stared at her, speechless.

"It's a bastardised Cockney rhyming slang," she explained, as if to a child, "Welsh not Scott-ish, and Ross and Rachel – you remember Friends?" she asked them all, carrying on regardless, "And it helped that it was a man's name as well. People weren't expecting a woman." She cocked an eyebrow at him challengingly, "And, as you can see, it's worked quite well – on foe, and friend alike."

He couldn't believe it. He used to be a respected Naval officer. Able to analyse plays and see traps well in advance and these scientists had totally played him. And it wasn't the first time that Rachel Scott had played him either.

Oh, they'd had help. Of that he had no doubt. Kara Foster _must_ have known what was going on and Mike certainly had, although there was no way either of them could have known from the beginning. But he hadn't spotted it at all. Others must have known but he hadn't asked the right questions. Burk knew, or he must have suspected that she was coming back, and he must have known about the security pseudonym but Tom had never thought to ask him. He'd been totally outmanoeuvred.

He gave them a sarcastic round of applause, smiling tightly at both Rachel and Mike, "Congratulations Doctor, you got me," he told her, and then pointed at Mike, "And while _she's_ out of my chain of command, don't think you've got away Scot-free Commander. XOs who score on their captains tend to meet sticky ends!" he grinned to show he wasn't totally serious.

Mike gave him a grin, "It was worth it just to see your face, Boss." He thought it probably had been. _Bastard_.

He looked again at Rachel. Really looked at her for the first time. She looked tired. There were dark smudges under her eyes. But she looked well. Her eyes were still glittering with humor at getting one over on him and they were bright. She carried herself confidently, standing tall for the first time since before she'd been kidnapped. And she'd put on weight as well. She looked well-muscled and less wiry than she had. _She looks hot_ , he concluded, slightly embarrassed.

"It's great to see you looking so well, Rachel," he told her, smiling contentedly, "I'm sure the others would like to hear about your adventures, so why don't we all meet here for dinner tonight at 19.00? We have to go and get the ship under way now."

The others all responded enthusiastically, and Rachel smiled at him, pleased. "Aye Aye, Captain," she told him.

* * *

She paused nervously outside Tom's cabin. She was 20 minutes early for dinner, but she'd finished everything she needed to do in her cabin and her lab area, and she didn't fancy sitting around any longer. The ship had been under way for several hours and she really wanted to see Tom. She didn't know what to expect. Certainly the emails they'd exchanged while she was away had been promising. She hoped he wasn't too pissed off with the Ross Welsh thing. Everyone thought it was hilarious, but they weren't the subject of the trick. She hoped Tom really was as OK with it as he'd seemed to be. But there was only one way to know for sure, so she reached out and knocked on the door.

"Enter", his voice was muffled by the door, and not particularly inviting. She wrapped her courage around her and did as instructed.

"Rach!" Now his voice was inviting, excited almost, and she felt a thrill of anticipation shoot through her, "I wasn't expecting you 'til later." He had been sitting behind his desk but rose as she came through the door. She closed the door behind her. She didn't want witnesses for this conversation.

She offered a shy smile, "Hi Tom, I was just sitting in my cabin and thought I'd take the chance you were too. Hopefully you're not too disappointed?"

"Disappointed?" he asked, shaking his head, "I'm delighted you're here early," he told her, "Did you want a tea or a cold drink?"

She shook her head; she just wanted to talk. "No thanks Tom."

"Are you feeling alright?" he enquired jokily. "You _don't_ want tea?" he put his hand on her forehead. "I can't feel any fever. Are you sure you're Rachel Scott?"

She grinned, swatting his hand away. "A bit too much tea today Tom. It was an early start and a real rush to get here. Sorry we were late by the way. It really _was_ touch and go."

He smiled at her, "Well I'm pleased we waited for Doctor Welsh. I was all set to leave without him, but Mike persuaded me to stay. Now I know why." He smiled at her self-deprecatingly and she knew he wasn't angry with her. "Best decision I've made all day."

He guided her to the sofa, waiting as she sat down. Then he sat next to her, as he had when they spoke the last time.

He studied her carefully, "You look well Rach, much better than when you left."

"I do?" she was surprised.

"Yes," he nodded, "You hold yourself much more confidently and you've put some weight on."

"That'll be down to Ravit," she told him, "She tells me she's channelling her mother. Never lets me miss a meal. Always asking if I want seconds," she smiled to herself, remembering, "Then if I eat too much, she beats the shit out of me in the gym and complains about how slow I am!" she grinned.

"Well, I'll have to thank the lieutenant," he told her, sharing the grin. "Tell me," he asked, suddenly serious, "Did you meet any Veela on your travels?"

"No!" she spluttered, getting the reference straightaway, "I wasn't looking," she told him, looking him in the eye, "I've found a very special man. I was just waiting for him to get his head straight. Has he?"

She took a deep breath, hoping he would put her out of her misery quickly, but she needn't have worried. "Yes," he told her, taking her hands in his. "I realised very quickly what a prick I'd been. I've missed you so much Rach. I'm ready to move forward now, if you are?"

"Are you asking me out Tom?" she could barely breathe.

"Yes," he told her. "Rachel Scott will you do me the great honour of being my partner?" he asked.

"Yes you great goof!" she told him, moving in for a hug, "About bloody time!" He held her for what seemed like hours but was only minutes. It felt so natural, being cradled against his strong chest, breathing in his scent, aftershave and salt.

"God, I missed this," she told him.

"Me too," he told her, and she pulled back as she heard the tremor in his voice. Tears were falling down his face, "I'm sorry I wasted so much time," he told her, "I had what I needed right here in front of me, but I didn't appreciate it until I almost lost it."

"You never lost it," she told him, resting her forehead against his, "I was always yours." And then she couldn't control herself any longer. She pulled his lips against hers and kissed him for all she was worth.

She didn't know how long they were kissing before there was a knock at the door. _Not long enough_ , she thought as they sprang apart. He stood up, making for the desk and she leaned back, straightening her clothes. Tom looked at her to make sure she was OK and she nodded.

"Enter," he called as Mike stepped into the room. The man's dutiful expression immediately shifted to one of humour and then of joy as he carefully closed the door.

"Sorry to disturb you," he said, and then, "You both look well-snogged." He held up his hands as Tom started to object, "Congratulations. I'm really happy for you both," he told them smiling, "and it's about damn time!"

She smiled at Mike, not even bothering to deny it. She knew the XO was a fan and he'd been dropping hints about how Tom needed her since he'd come back to duty a few weeks ago.

"You might both want to straighten up," he told them, grinning, "Before the hungry hoards arrive. Also, you might want to find more subtle places to make out. I'm sure Green can give you some tips!"

"Are you sure you really want to go there, Mike?" she asked menacingly as Tom whuffed in surprise. "Because, you know, people who take the piss out of me tend to meet sticky ends!" Nevertheless, she took herself over to the mirror on the wall and started tidying up her hair and her top. Her lips did look a bit puffy, so she kneaded them a bit with her fingers.

"Fair point," he acknowledged, grinning back, "Forget what I just said Rach."

"How come you're scared of her and not of me?" Tom asked plaintively. He had tucked his top back into his belt and, apart from having slightly puffy lips, looked fine.

"I don't know? Familiarity breeds contempt?!" Mike responded, causing Tom to sputter and Rachel to laugh out loud, "And also she's scarier than you Tom. And she can be positively evil. Aaaaand Miller told me that now she can kick Burk's ass in the gym." He paused, striking off each of the points on his fingers.

"Sounds like Mike's got a fine appreciation of the tactical realities," she observed, grinning and heading back over to the sofa.

"Kick Burk's ass?" Tom asked wonderingly, looking at her.

"Yup," she confirmed, "Ravit's a great teacher."

"Wow…" was all he said.

"Which means that she must be easily able to beat the shit out of you Tom, so you'd better behave yourself!" Mike told him.

Mike was saved from anything more than a glare by another knock at the door which presaged the entrance of Danny Green and Andrea Garnett, joined by the aforementioned Carlton Burk. They all sat down and started to fill one another in on what they'd been doing for the past few months.

* * *

"You. Are a minx, Rachel Scott." They were lying on the sofa, her head resting on his chest. It was late. They had had a really fun dinner and the others had left twenty minutes ago. Not wanting to head back to her empty cabin, she'd been pleased when Tom had asked if she wanted to stay for a drink.

"Oh?" she questioned. His chest vibrated as he laughed.

"I can't believe you and Connie pulled one over on me. You know, I used to be a highly-respected tactical officer? No-one could catch me out in exercises."

She grinned, "And then a couple of scientists showed you up!" she giggled, but then controlled it and looked up at him. His beautiful blue eyes stared right back. "I'm sorry if you were upset," she told him seriously.

"I _was_ a bit pissed," he told her, "but only for second. Then I was so pleased that you came back. Cause I had something really important to tell you. And I'd thought it was going to be a long time til I saw you again."

"When did you decide?" she asked.

"In March. I realised by March that I loved you."

"Loved me?" _Did he just say that?_ He loved her? He loved her! _Oh My God_.

"Loved." He reached around and gently touched her cheek with his hand, "Yes, I love you Rachel Scott."

"I love you too Tom," she told him, "But I knew before March!" Then she said nothing more as he pulled her in for the kiss.

When they had finished, she lay staring at him, "You know, I'm sorry I didn't make the ceremony. We tried so hard to be there."

"I would have loved for you to be there. Your message had me in tears. Quite a few others too."

"I heard," she replied, "That wasn't what I intended though. I just wanted to communicate how much you and the others mean to me."

"Oh that came out clearly," he told her, "very clearly," Then something obviously occurred to him, " _How_ did you hear?"

She smiled at him cheekily, "Oh, I have my sources."

"Kara." He guessed.

"Lieutenant Commander Foster _may_ be one of my sources, but I couldn't possibly confirm or deny that allegation," she teased.

"Do I have to tickle it out of you?" he questioned.

She twitched, "No!" and then rushed out, "Don't forget, Connie and Tex were there!"

"Oh?" he raised his eyebrows cheekily, "Ticklish are we? Useful information."

"Thomas Chandler," she told him in her serious voice, "If you tickle me you won't see me for a week!" There was no way she was making good on that threat, but _he_ didn't know it!

He grinned at her, "Aye Aye Doctor."

Trying to change the subject she told him, "Congratulations on the promotion though, _Captain_. Captain Sir Thomas Chandler, United States Navy. It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

"Nicer than the Scott Effect?" he questioned, then "OK, OK!" he assured her as she went to speak, "we won't talk about the Scott Effect."

"Good," she grumped.

"I was a bit punch-drunk by the end of the ceremony. The President, the King, Brigadier Wilkins, a Presidential Unit Citation, the George Cross, a Knighthood and a promotion. And do you know what the best thing was about the ceremony?" he asked.

"What?" she wondered.

"The message from you. Hearing your voice after so long."

"Aw, you big smoothie," she told him.

He shook his head, "No, you don't understand. What you said in your message about how we were your family and friends. That's how we feel about you. How _I_ feel about you." He told her, staring into her eyes.

"And am I your family or your friend Tom?" she asked, only slightly facetiously.

"You're both Rachel," he told her, and the look of absolute love in his eyes melted her, "You're the friend that supported me during a horrendous time after Darien died, the family that loved me and my family, and the woman that I admire more than anyone else. I don't know anyone else that could endure what you've endured and still keep coming back for more. Who you are shines right out of you. Your empathy, your love, your goodness. You talked about professionalism in your message. We've all experienced your professionalism at first hand as well; both as a virologist and as a doctor. You've saved us and you carry on saving us."

His answer stunned her. "Is that how you really see me?" she asked in a small voice.

"Yes," he replied tearfully, "You make it so easy to love you."

"I don't know what to say," she told him.

"Then don't say anything," he answered, "just kiss me."

* * *

 _Thanks for all the reviews for the last chapter. Here's a bonus update!_

 _A/N The Harry Potter quote is a homage to "The Great Escape" by Caden29. Probably the best TLS Fanfic I've read. Pretty please write some more!_


	31. Recovering: Interlude

_I do not own The Last Ship_

 **Part 5: Interlude**

 **Email 20 March 2015 Subject: Boytoy!**

Oi shortstuff, Good news. Looks like you're getting your boytoy back! We took a day off with Tex to go and get his family today. Burk wasn't too happy about "endangering" me, but I told him to stuff it. When people go out of their way to help you, it's only right that you help them. So, we all piled into two SUVs and went to go get them. Unfortunately, his ex didn't make it, but Kat did. And I think you're going to really like her. She's bright as a button, pretty, GSOH and she's got him wrapped around her little finger. Competition for you madam! I'm sad because it means we lose Tex (on the road is no place for a teenage girl) but I can't help being happy that another family got reunited. We sent Tex and Kat over to Dallas to hook up with a virus-relief flight and they should be with you in a few days. In the mean-time Ravit and I have to bring some new bodyguards up to speed. You owe me missy! Rach x

 **Email 23 March 2015 Re: Boytoy!**

I probably owe those poor security boys more. Be gentle with them. The package arrived safely, you'll be pleased to know and we're getting reacquainted, if you know what I mean! Safe travels, LYLAS Connie xxx

 **Email 23 March 2015 Re: Re: Boytoy!**

TMI, especially when I haven't had any for ages! Rach x

 **Email 23 March 2015 Re: Re: Re: Boytoy!**

Cheer up. I'm sure Tommy-boy'll ante up. When he gets his head out of his ass, anyway. LYLAS Connie xxx

 **Email 23 March 2015 Re: Re: Re: Re: Boytoy!**

You know it's not like that. He's dealing with a lot. I told him I was OK with waiting and I am. But that's not to say I'm not insanely jealous. Heading to Kansas City for that flare up. ADIH, Rach x

 **Email 26 March 2015 Dr Ross Welsh**

Rach, I got an irate call from Tom Chandler today. Turns out he got the memo about Dr Ross Welsh being assigned to Nathan James, but not some of the preceding memos! He was wondering why he'd been assigned Dr Welsh as his new virologist and why he couldn't get _you_? He said some really sweet things about you Rach. Tried to browbeat me into re-assigning Dr Welsh. In the end I told him "You know we're dealing with an apocalypse here Captain? We have to deploy the teams that are available, and the Welsh team is one of our best." He quieted down after that. Just thought you'd like to know. Glad that Kansas City is winding down and talk to you soon. PMSL. Connie xxx

 **Email 27 March 2015 Re: Dr Ross Welsh**

You are an unkind woman Connie Hu! I can't believe that, not content with teasing your boyfriend, you've now started on mine as well! I mean obviously he's not yet, but here's hoping! Not that it's not absolutely hilarious (especially given that he's such a control freak) but why didn't you just tell him?

Great update this morning. We've just got into Omaha. You wouldn't believe how many survivors there are here. Somebody really got their shit together in the early stages. Wish they were all like this. Not ADIH! Rach x

 **Email 30 March 2015 What's up?**

Rach, it's really sweet that you keep in touch with this washed up old man and I can't thank you enough, particularly given I know how busy you are. The kids are fine, thanks for asking. They both send their love. School has re-started, at least in the mornings, so that's great and I finally get a bit of time to myself, which is highly appreciated. Tom gets over when he can, and the kids really appreciate the time he can give us. He took them fishing the other day. They came back freezing but excited and they slept really well that night. Tom was telling me that you might not get back to Nathan James and that they might have to leave without you. I could tell he was really disappointed. What's up? I thought you were planning to head out with them? Much love, Jed.

 **Email 31 March 2015 Re: Update**

Connie, What a fuck up in Wichita! I swear they couldn't find their arse with both hands. It's no surprise they have such a low survival rate. Ethan is staying behind to get them back on track. It feels like the average age of my security detail just dropped by about 10 years. I'm suddenly an old woman! ADIH, Rach x

 **Email 31 March 2015 Re: Re: Update**

Old woman, GFETE! Obviously, you need a pick me up. Get that bikini out cos you're off to LA! You can wind down before you come back to Norfolk for the celebrations. ADIP, Connie xxx

 **Email 1 April 2015 Re: Re: Re: Update**

Connie, Nice thought but I don't really do bikinis at the mo, for obvious reasons. Will enjoy the beach though. LYLAS, Rach x

 **Email 1 April 2015 Re: Re: Re: Re: Update**

Oh come on Rach. You're gorgeous. Besides, boys dig scars and I'm sure your captain does too. Do I need to come over there and kick your butt? LYLAS, Connie xxx

 **Email 1 April 2015 Re: Re: Re: Re: Update**

IYD tiny! Ravit's been working with me and now I'm a LW! Rach x

 **Email 2 April 2015 Re: What's up?**

Hi Jed, I was hoping to, but I don't manage my movements – you know how it is. Glad you're getting a bit of down time now; you certainly deserve it. It's been difficult on the road the past months, but we've got a few days off in LA which didn't come a moment too soon. Love to you and the kids, Rach xxx

 **Email 3 April 2015 Downtime**

Connie, Thanks for the downtime. Good call on the bikini. Ravit forced me into one. It didn't look as bad as I thought, and it was great to just chill in the sun for a few hours. It was almost like life used to be. LYLAS, Rach x

 **Email 7 April 2015 Des Moines**

Rach, Something's come up in Des Moines. I know it's only a little while before you're due to go back to Nathan James, but we need you there. I know you really wanted to be in Norfolk this weekend. Sorry. C4N. Connie xxx

 **Email 7 April 2015 Re: Des Moines**

Shite! Why does life always come and bite you on the arse? I'd been looking forward to seeing the kids, and all my friends again, and they really deserved that, and I wanted to be there for it. Bollocks, I am so tired of this fucking disease. SSDD. Rach x

 **Email 9 April 2015 Map**

Rach, we had the map updated today and for the first time the continental US has as much green as red. See attached. We're winning girl! We might actually have survived TEOTWAWKI. All down to you. C4N. Connie xxx

 **Email 9 April 2015 Re: Map**

Bollocks. Team effort. TEOTWAWKI? Seriously? Took me hours to work that one out. ROTFL Rach x

 **Email 9 April 2015 Re: Re: Map**

Very sad. Didn't take you for one of those PWCMCIA's. Showing your age? Connie xxx

 **Email 9 April 2015 Re : Re : Re : Map**

FU. GBTW. Rach x

 **Email 11 April 2015 Sneaky**

Ravit, Did you know why Rachel sent us back? I can't believe you kept that from me! You are so busted and I'm gonna take it out of your pretty little ass when you get back! Carlton

E **mail 12 April 2015 Re: Sneaky**

LoverBoy, Of course I knew. Do you think she hatched that up on her own? Three words for you – IN YOUR DREAMS. No way you can take me. You know you can only take Rach on a good day now. Meshugganah! Hopefully you haven't let the cat out of the bag with the Captain, otherwise I'll kick your rather attractive ass! Ravit x

 **Email 12 April 2015 Re: Re: Sneaky**

It _is_ a nice ass, isn't it? But seriously, you should tell Rach she had the crew eating out of her hand with her message and the Captain looked like he was gonna cry. He asked me if I'd ever come into contact with Dr Welsh. I had to do some fancy footwork to get out of that one. I'm trying to work out who knows. Danny doesn't seem to know but I assume Kara does? The XO must know. Does the Chief know? LoverBoy

 **Email 13 April 2015 Re: Re: Re: Sneaky**

You're so dense sometimes. Of course Kara knows! And the XO. The Chief doesn't. If you give us away, not only will Rachel and I ruin you, but I'll also tell Dr Hu, and she makes us look like first graders! You've been warned. Keep that ass out of trouble. Ravit x

 **Email 13 April 2015 Catch-up**

Jed, Sorry I didn't make it back as planned this weekend. I was really looking forward to seeing you and the kids. Oh, and Tom of course! I gather a good time was had by all though? I'm still hoping to pay a flying visit to Norfolk in the next week or so. If I can, I'll drop you a line. Love, Rach x

 **Email 13 April 2015 You owe me!**

You owe me Rachel, that was so tough. To spend all that time with Danny and the Captain and not let the cat out of the bag! Plus, there was another admirer of yours who was sorry to miss you. Still, your message went down well with the crew, and it was cool that you sent Miller and Burk back so they could be with the rest of us. The Captain looked so proud, with his kids and his Dad there, and all of us, I spose, but I could tell he was gutted you weren't there. Take care of yourself Rach. Kara XXX

 **Email 13 April 2015 Re: You owe me!**

I will pay you back in spades Kara Foster. When I'm finished with my little gifts, you'll wonder why I can't walk on water! But seriously, I was gutted not to be there for Nathan James' big day, but happier once I knew I would miss HRH. Who, as you very well know young lady, knew I wasn't going to be there. I'm getting nervous now. I can't wait to get back to NJ and I know we'll be back on schedule. The situation in Des Moines isn't as serious as we thought – some faulty batches of Cure – we've seen it before. We'll take in a couple more cities before we head back to Norfolk. Happy to leave behind post-Armageddon America and get back to civilisation. Love Rach x

 **Email 15 April 2015 Nathan James arrival**

Dear "Doctor Welsh", I look forward to welcoming you aboard Nathan James for your team's deployment. Blah blah blah! Enough of that. Seriously Rach, why haven't you told Tom? He's about busting a gasket that you're not going to be here and trying to find out about this "Doctor Welsh" as well. Can you share details of your ETA and the make-up of your security team so that I can get cabins set up for you? I assume we get Bivas and Wolf back. Any others? I gather Tex is staying ashore? Safe travels Rach, looking forward to seeing you. Owe you a very big hug. Mike

 **Email 16 April 2015 Re: Nathan James arrival**

I noticed you apparently haven't let the cat out of the bag either Mike! Could it be that you're enjoying this too?! Besides, it's his own fault. He should have read the memo! It's just Ravit, Wolf and I from my old team. Tex is staying with Connie to "protect" her (and be with Kat, which I'll accept is a reasonable excuse even if the former is not!) and we dropped Ethan off on our travels. Bob Nash, my security team leader, says that three other members of my travel team are coming with, which is great because it means I only have to re-train you lot! The idea is to get to you at 11.00 on Monday but be prepared for some creep. You know how things go. TTFN Rachel x

 **Email 17 April 2015 Re: Re: Nathan James arrival**

You're accusing me, a Commander in the United States Navy, of enjoying teasing my CO? How dare you?! But seriously, this is the best thing ever. The number of snide remarks he's made about this "Doctor Welsh" is amazing. I can't wait to see his face when you turn up. You better be prepared to face the music Rach, because it's gonna be EPIC! Later, Mike

 **Email 19 April 2015 Arrival**

PHOTOS PLEASE! But seriously, Rach, I need a blow by blow account of how it goes down. That man is soooo uptight. I so wish I could be a fly on the wall when he sees you. LYLAS, Connie xxx

 **Email 20 April 2015 EPIC!**

Kara, OMG I cannot BELIEVE you didn't tell me about this. It was totally EPIC! "Dr Welsh" was getting later and later, and the Captain was getting more and more pissed and then "he" finally arrived at the end of the senior staff meeting. Rachel walks in and goes "Dr Ross Welsh, reporting as ordered Captain" and he just stands there gaping like a fish. The XO's having hysterics in the doorway but we're all as flabbergasted as the Captain and he says "What?" and she goes, "Honestly, didn't you get the memo?", then everybody's hugging her, and the Captain just stands there. I can't believe it was gonna be her all the time and you didn't tell me. She told me to send her love. TTYS, Danny x

 **Email 20 April 2015 Best BFF ever**

Damn Rachel, you rock girl! Hermes, Bulgari, Chanel? Did you raid Saks Fifth Avenue on your travels? But seriously, I was sorry to miss you, but I didn't miss your gift bag, hand delivered by Bob Nash. Danny going away totally sucks but sitting in a bath with that stuff nearly makes up for it! I want to know how that happened? I don't need to know about the big reveal cos Danny already told me. He said it was epic. Hopefully Act Two was just as good. Details on that, please? SOL, Kara x

 **Email 21 April 2015 Re: BFF ever**

Kara, I'm so pleased to be back. It was great. Mike met us as we boarded. It was the first time I'd seen him up and about and we had a hug to celebrate. Then Ravit and Wolf wished me luck and he hussled me down to the Captain's Wardroom and filled me in about how Tom was getting more and more pissed off with Dr Welsh's lateness. Then he knocked on the door, and I went in. They were all there – Andrea, Danny, The Chief. Tom was a bit angry. It took him a while to warm up and get down from his high horse but when I told him about the memo and he knew he'd jumped to the wrong conclusion he was OK. He made it up to me, if you know what I mean? ﾟ;) As for the gift pack, you deserve it. I got a little something for the girls here as well, but you have greater need! It all came from a grateful patient in Ohio. She worked for Saks back in the day and let us into their warehouse. Since I've been back people have been stopping me on the p-way and in the gym and the mess deck. It feels like home. I miss you though. Love, Rach xxx

 **Email 21 April 2015 Take care**

Rach, LYLAS – I can't believe that care pack you left. IMNSHO you are the best best-friend ever! Thanks for the call with the lowdown. LOL, nearly LTHTT. Wish I could've seen his face. Glad your LDR is over. Don't worry: Tex and I'll keep an eye on Kara, Jed and the kids. You keep safe out there OK? You're too special to me to get hurt. Bring yourself and the rest of our friends back in one piece. C4N, Connie xxx.

* * *

 _A/N Another little present. Came into my head almost fully-formed and didn't fit anywhere in the main story._

 _Glossary_

 _ADIH: Another Day In Hell_

 _ADIP: Another Day In Paradise_

 _C4N: Ciao for Now_

 _GBTW: Get Back To Work_

 _GFETE: Grinning From Ear To Ear_

 _GOSH: Good Sense Of Humour_

 _HRH: His Royal Highness_

 _IMNSHO: In My Not So Humble Opinion_

 _IYD: In Your Dreams_

 _LDR: Long Distance Relationship_

 _LTHTT: Laughing Too Hard To Type_

 _LW: Lethal Weapon_

 _LYLAS: Love You Like A Sister_

 _Meshuggana: Yiddish for mad person_

 _PMSL: Pissing My-Self Laughing_

 _PWCMCIA: People Who Can't Memorize Computer Industry Acronyms_

 _ROTFL: Rolling On The Floor Laughing_

 _SOL: Smiling Out Loud_

 _SSDD: Same Shit Different Day_

 _TEOTWAWKI: The End Of The World As We Know It_

 _TMI: Too Much Information_

 _TTFN: Ta-Ta For Now_

 _TTYS: Talk To You Soon_


	32. Recovering: Chapter 3

_I do not own The Last Ship. Author's notes at the bottom._

 **Part 5: Chapter 3**

 **21 April 2015**

By mutual agreement they had decided that they wouldn't have sex on the ship. It was alright to do a bit of kissing and cuddling in private but Tom needed to set an example on fraternisation and so they didn't do anything beyond that. She was OK with that (it had, after all, been a long time), but she was looking forward to a time when they didn't have to respect the strictures of naval etiquette. Maybe they could build a little time in for shore leave at some of their stops on this leg of the trip? After all they would be visiting Florida, the Caribbean islands and potentially Latin America. What better places for a little R&R? She'd have to drop some hints.

It was great to get back to the Nathan James, but she was conscious of a gnawing fatigue at the back of her mind. It was now over a year since the first outbreak of the Red Flu and her trip to Egypt, and a lot had happened in that year. She had noticed it in the last stage of their airborne tour of the US. She was normally so motivated to get out and help people but now it was more and more difficult to get herself "up" for what they were doing.

She thought part of it may have had something to do with the President's offer of the headship of a new Center for Disease Control. She had thought about it long and hard before deciding that she wouldn't be happy to give up her lab entirely. She had decided to sound out Connie, who she knew _was_ happy to give up research, about whether she could handle a co-head structure? She had worked with Connie for donkey's years and they worked well together. Connie was much better at politics (both internal and external) than Rachel herself and she thought that the two of them together would make a Dream Team for CDC. Rachel was realistic enough to know that any new organisation would need someone who was good at politics at a senior level and that was just not Rachel's cup of tea.

Nevertheless, the opportunity to get out of the front line of Cure dispersal was inviting. She had always enjoyed getting into the field over the course of her career, but the sheer amount of death that she had seen over the past 12 months was starting to be more than she could handle. Coupled with what she had endured on the Vyerni, she was finding that she wasn't sleeping well. To the thoughts of the billions dead from the virus, the deaths in the virus trial and memories of torture, were now added the people she'd lost after the Immune attack on Nathan James.

While, in her head, she knew she wasn't to blame for any of the deaths (apart from the last few on the Vyerni) and was able to push it out of her mind a lot of the time, she was finding increasingly that at stressful times she was struggling to deal with it. It wasn't any one thing that would set her off either. Things could be totally random. A shout in the street, the sound of someone taking a hit in the gym, waking up to see a grey bulkhead.

She knew that she needed to get proper help. Ravit and Tex had been taking up the slack on their travels, but then Tex had left and she hadn't wanted to burden Ravit with all her problems. She knew now that she could talk to Tom more but, again, he had enough on his plate, and she felt wrong about burdening him. Maybe he could recommend someone to talk to? There must be someone on the ship who did counselling. With over 200 crew they must have someone. Tom would know.

She was on her way now to the senior officers meeting and hopefully after that there'd be a chance to speak to him and ask for some advice. Dinner last night had been tough since it was very difficult, now that they'd decided that they were going out, not to touch him in public. She supposed nominally it would be OK, since she wasn't Navy, but it was _his_ career and she didn't want to force the matter. She would take his lead on what was acceptable in public.

* * *

Which was why she was totally flabbergasted when she entered his wardroom to see Mike and Danny there and he greeted her with a hug. She saw Danny's eyes practically bug out of his head over Tom's shoulder but Mike just looked relaxed.

"Is this the sort of welcome I should get used to from now on?" she asked hopefully.

He grinned, and she was pleased to see that he looked a lot more relaxed today. Being at sea obviously agreed with him. "In here, yes," he told her, "I was planning on telling my senior officers anyway. Not around the ship I'm afraid."

Well that would certainly do. She grinned at him and then looked over his shoulder, "OK Danny?"

He looked a bit chagrined. "Kind of a shock Rach, but congratulations to both of you. Am I the last to know again?" he asked, only a little plaintively.

She smiled, sitting down at the table between Tom and Mike, "Well I don't think Andrea and the Master Chief know, and I hope the new TAO doesn't?" she glanced at Tom who nodded in agreement.

"Kara knows, doesn't she?" he asked.

"Sorry," she told him, "I did ask her to keep it a secret."

"I can't believe she didn't tell me about any of it!" he exclaimed.

They were saved by the arrival of the Chief Engineer, the Master Chief and the new TAO, who just heard the end of the conversation.

"Didn't tell you about what?" queried Andrea.

Danny just gestured at the Captain, unsure if he should say anything. She looked at Tom, wondering what he would say or do, "That Doctor Scott and I are together," he told them simply.

"Oh wow! Congratulations!" cried Andrea, leaning over to give Rachel a hug and whispering in her ear, "Tea! This afternoon! I want details!" Rachel smiled back at the woman and agreed by nodding her head.

"And from me too," chimed in the Master Chief, "I'm very happy for the both of you." He shook the Captain's hand and bent over to hug Rachel. The other woman, who Rachel assumed was Lieutenant Commander Alison Wells, the new TAO, smiled. She had been on watch last night so had not come to the dinner and was also missing from the meeting when Rachel first came on board.

She rose to her feet, "Commander Wells, I'm Rachel Scott. It's good to finally meet you. The Captain's said some good things about you," she told the woman. Tom had told her very little, but it never hurt to be polite.

"Doctor," the woman gave a radiant smile, "It's an honor to meet you. Your reputation precedes you."

"It's Rachel," she told the woman, "and I hope that's my post-Vyerni reputation and not the one from before!"

They all smiled, "I'm sure it's the "saving the world" one Rach," Tom told her, "Not the megabitch from Hell!"

"Well that's a relief!" she grinned, "I look forward to getting to know you better Commander."

"Oh, it's Alison. Please," said Alison.

Tom smiled and then gestured to the table, "OK, let's all get started. There's a lot to get through. There's tea and coffee on the side, so grab what you want and let's get down to business…"

* * *

"OK, we'll be arriving at Savannah in a few hours," Danny told his team, "There'll be two teams. Dr Scott's team will consist of most of her old travel team with Burk in command, assisted by Bivas, and the XO's team will have me in command, assisted by Taylor."

"We're hoping this will be an easy one to get us back on the horse as it were, but keep your wits about you. If that sub reappears we'll have to get back to the ship ASAP. As you all know we were in this area before and we're hoping the cure spread from Charleston. After this we'll be heading further down into Florida. We'll stop in at Jacksonville but virus-relief flights have already been there and the area is under control. As we get closer to Immune territory we'll be keeping some bodies on the ship to avoid a repeat of what happened last time, but we'll still continue with the virus-relief operations."

He still hated to think about Nathan James being attacked and their team not being here. They wouldn't get caught out like that again. The Captain was adamant. Which was why he would be staying on the ship for the bulk of their virus-relief operations.

"OK, brief your people," he told his senior personnel, dismissing them. He was dying to ask Burk and Ravit how much they knew about Rachel and the Captain. He still couldn't believe that Kara hadn't told him anything! He knew her friendship with Rachel was really important to her but still… Mind you, he wouldn't want to piss off Rachel. She was one scary woman! Kara had told him about her performance with Ned Ramsay and while it was funny, it was only funny because she was on their side!

He hoped Kara was OK. He wasn't worried about her _per se_ , he just hoped that she was doing OK. He knew she enjoyed her job with the President and there was no doubt she was valued in that role. And he knew there were lots of people that were there for her in Norfolk. Her Mom, but also Captain Chandler's Dad, Connie Hu, Tex and even the XO's wife were all looking out for her, and he was pleased for that.

He wondered whether he should have popped the question this last time in Norfolk? He was going to. He had the ring and everything. It was just that he hadn't found the right time. They had always seemed to be flat out and it didn't seem right. He needed to ask her soon. While he wasn't worried about the timing of the birth, he wanted her to know how much he loved her and he wanted to make it official.

Oh well, thinking about Kara wasn't going to get his weapon cleaned and his gear in order, so he'd better get on with it.

* * *

 **28 April 2015**

"Captain, we're picking up a distress signal." It was Mason.

He was in CIC. They were just off the west coast of Grand Bahama, well into Immune territory and they hadn't been attacked yet. But this sounded all too convenient. Their trip to Florida had so far gone well. The Cure had spread over 100 miles outside Jacksonville, even as far as Orlando, although the additional doses they'd brought with them had been welcome in that city when they'd visited, and they'd stopped off in a few coastal towns and cities on the way down.

He'd stayed on the ship though. He couldn't take the chance that the Immunes might attack while he was on shore. Mike was a capable XO but Tom was much better at anti-submarine warfare than Mike; it had been his specialty after all when he'd been a junior officer. Between himself and Wells, who was also an ASW specialist, and their bulked out ASW department, and their _friends_ , they should do OK if it came to a head to head. Which was what it could very well come to.

"Where?" he asked.

"Bearing one four zero, Captain," answered Mason, "It could be the Berry Islands or it could be New Providence.

"Time to close?" he queried.

"About two to three hours, sir." This time it was Wells, "Depending on which it is."

"Hmmm, my spider senses are tingling," he told Wells. "The cure has been distributed in the Bahamas and we haven't had distress signals for ages." He turned to Mason, "Contact them. Ask them to identify and explain the nature of the emergency."

"Aye Captain," the man told him, bending over his console. Tom picked up the phone, "XO can you come to CIC please?" he asked Mike.

Mike breezed in about two minutes later as Mason was just explaining what he'd got. He gestured at the man, "Repeat what you've just told us for the XO please."

"Aye sir," the man replied, "Sir, he says he's the fishing vessel _Living Large_ and they're about 15 miles north of New Providence. The ship's sprung a leak and they're sinking."

Tom grimaced. It was possible but not likely. "How come nobody responded from the other islands?" he asked, "there must be other boats closer than us…. I wonder if he's transmitting narrow beam? Can you recognise that?" he asked Mason.

The man confirmed that he couldn't. "What do you think?" he asked Mike.

"I don't like it either Captain," the XO replied.

"TAO?" he asked Wells.

"The water's deep enough between the islands for subs to operate," she replied, "at least two to three thousand metres depth in some places. But there should be enough cover for us from shallower waters if we need to dodge around as well."

"Hmm," he murmured. _As long as our friend can make it_. "OK," he said, reaching a decision, "I think we have to do this." He looked at Mike who nodded, "Set a course for their reported position. Ahead flank speed. Let's set General Quarters. Check Prairie/Masker is functioning and let's get the Nixies prepared."

* * *

"Captain," reported Wells, "We've cleared the Berry Islands and should have line of sight to their position but I'm not seeing anything on radar."

"Are they still transmitting?" he asked Mason.

"No sir," the lieutenant replied.

"Anything strange about their last transmission?" he asked.

"No Captain, they were just there and then they weren't, a few seconds ago."

"Could they have sunk?" asked the TAO.

"Possible," he replied, "but they also may have submerged." He thought for a moment, and then picked up the Bridge phone, "OK, let's slow to two thirds XO, but bring us down towards their last known position."

"Aye Captain," came the reply.

"Keep your eyes and ears peeled on that sonar," he told Wells and her team.

Minutes ticked by as they continued to close.

"Captain," called Wells, "We're getting a little bit of something on sonar, bearing one-seven-zero. Possible sub-surface contact."

"Range?" he asked.

"About twenty-two thousand yards," came the reply.

"Get the helo up," he told Wells, "I'd like to triangulate on that possible contact."

"Aye sir," she replied as they continued to close.

"Helo's dropping sonobuoys sir," she announced five minutes later, then, "Got him! Submarine contact, twenty thousand yards, one thousand metres depth, closing on our position."

"Stand by torpedoes," he ordered, and then on the bridge phone, "accelerate to flank speed!"

"Captain, transient on the target! Don't know what it is….vampire vampire! Missile in the air!"

"Shit, the helo!" he gasped. It was practically unheard of for a sub to fire on an airborne target.

"Helo is hit!" shouted Wells, "Going down."

 _Damn, how was that even possible?_ "Distress beacons?" he asked, fearing he already knew the answer.

"Negative Captain," Wells replied, looking sick, "The sub's coming in at us now, accelerating to full speed, range seventeen thousand yards."

He might be able to take her just with Nathan James but would have a much better chance if he utilised all of his resources. And to do that he needed to bring the enemy sub into range.

"Let's look like we're running for shallow water," he said, picking up the Bridge phone, "Turn left, new course three-zero-zero," he ordered. He didn't bother doing anything clever with the engines even though he knew turning at such high speed with such a big turning circle would allow the enemy to close the range. _Let them think we have no idea_ , he thought.

As the ship settled on her new course, he looked at Wells, "Is she following?"

The woman looked at her readouts for a few seconds and then grinned at him excitedly, "Aye Captain," she replied.

* * *

"Captain, I have a faint subsurface contact, bearing zero eight zero, nine thousand yards!" Wells' voice came urgently.

"Still tracking the enemy?" he asked.

"Affirmative Captain, behind us fourteen thousand yards," came the reply.

"Do you think it's our friends?" he asked the TAO.

She looked at him and he could see the sweat beading her brow, "Good chance, sir," she replied.

He weighed up the options. Could the Immunes have another sub? Possible. Would they have enough manpower to man another sub? Unlikely. "I think so too." He picked up the bridge phone, "XO, I want you to bend our course gradually to starboard, rudder only, maintain speed."

"Aye, Captain," Mike replied.

He looked at Wells, "When the enemy get to twelve thousand yards, get ready to stream the Nixie," he ordered, "and have a second one ready to go."

"Aye sir," she acknowledged.

Minutes passed and still the Immunes hadn't fired on them. "Got anything more on the second contact?" he asked.

"Difficult sir, but it _sounds_ like a Trafalgar Class reactor plant, but that could just be wishful thinking…now bearing one-one-zero," she replied, and then, "CAPTAIN! Torpedoes in the water, bearing one-eight-zero! Range ten thousand yards! Five torpedoes."

"Stream the Nixie!" he ordered, "Helm! Accelerate to Flank three!" His mind was thinking, Y _es! He fired a full spread at us. Didn't detect the other sub_. "Launch two torpedoes back along that bearing!"

"Aye Captain!" came the replies.

"Range?" he rapped.

"Incoming torpedoes up to full speed, range nine thousand yards," answered Wells, "Nixie active!"

"OK, get ready to stream another one," he ordered.

"Aye sir!" she replied.

"What have you got on the Immunes?" he asked.

"Coming right after us Captain," Wells told him, "running at close to thirty-five knots."

 _He's screwed then_ , he thought, _just keep coming a little longer_. And he did.

"CAPTAIN! Nearest contact firing torpedoes!"

"Range and bearing?" he asked.

"Not at us. Bearing away," called Wells, "He's firing at the Immunes. Four fish. Spearfish Captain!"

He shared a feral grin with his TAO. _Point blank range. Those Brits are gonna nail them!_

"Immune sub is turning away, to the east. She's changing depth. Going down." She paused, "Three enemy fish decoyed by the Nixie," she reported.

"Stream the other one," he ordered. "Range to us?"

"Five thousand yards Captain," she replied.

"All their fish in acquisition on the enemy sub Captain!" she told him.

 _Get in there!_

"Detonation!" she called, "At least four fish hit him. It's a long way out but I think I'm hearing breaking up noises. She's going down." She paused, "Two torpedoes coming for us sir, range three thousand yards."

"The second Nixie?" he asked.

"There's a problem with the cable," she told him, "It's going now."

 _Shit! That's gonna cut it tight._

"Range?" he asked.

"Eighteen hundred yards, sir. Nixie is going active."

"Prepare for evasive action!" he ordered. _Maybe we can make a knuckle in the water?_ He thought.

"One down!" Wells shouted excitedly, "The other fish is in acquisition!"

"Range?" he asked.

"Twelve hundred!"

"SOUND COLLISION!" he ordered, "TURN HARD LEFT!"

The collision alarm sounded as the ship healed over as the helm was thrown over. He counted out fifteen seconds in his head.

"TURN HARD RIGHT!" he ordered, "Resume original course!"

The ship healed back and as it did so there was a huge explosion from behind them, which threw him nearly off his feet.

"TAO?" he barked.

He could see her at her instruments, "All clear," she told him, "no other torpedoes in acquisition."

There was a cheer. He picked up the phone on his desk again. "DCA, this is the Captain. Damage report?"

"Captain, no flooding but engineering reports problems with the starboard shaft. Request we cut speed."

"Aye," he replied, then switching to the Bridge phone, "Bridge, Captain, ahead one third," he ordered.

"Aye Captain, ahead one third," echoed Mike.

"Captain!" It was Wells, "Radar contact, bearing one-five-zero. Range twelve thousand yards. Just came up."

"Captain!" It was Mason, "We're being hailed."

"Put it on speaker!" he ordered.

"Nathan James, this is HMS Talent, we authenticate Romeo Zulu Whisky one two two." The speaker was a British female. He and Wells shared a grin.

"Give me bridge to bridge," he ordered Mason, who signalled to say that he had it, "Talent, this is Nathan James, we authenticate Charlie Yankee."

"Confirmed," came the reply, "Do you require assistance?"

"Unknown at this time, Commander Richardson," he replied, "But I think you've already provided quite a lot of assistance!"

"Nonsense Captain!" came the reply, "We were just doing our jobs."

"Can I assume that the Immunes are no longer a problem?" he enquired.

"Yes you can," came the reply from the Royal Navy submarine, "She was hit by all four torpedoes. Went down like a lead balloon." There was a huge cheer in CIC.

"I think you can tell we liked your news Commander," he told the British captain.

"We were quite chuffed as well Captain," came the amused reply. "We're closing your position now. We stand ready to assist if you need it."

"Thanks Commander," he replied, "I look forward to meeting you in person. Nathan James out."

* * *

"Talent, arriving" the tannoy intoned as Commander Charlotte Richardson climbed over the side of his ship. The last hour had been busy and there hadn't been too much time to dwell on the Immune action. He had dispatched a RHIB to look for survivors from the helo, although it was extremely unlikely that there would be any. Still, it was his responsibility to try his best for his crew.

He had also asked Bacon and the XO to look out some fresh supplies of fruit and vegetables to pass over for the submarine's crew. They had been cooped up in that hull for well over three weeks and he thought that the least they could do was share some fresh food with the Brits. It would take them well over a week to get home from here, so he knew the crew would appreciate it. One of his friends from the Academy had been a submariner and fresh food had been one of his biggest bugbears.

And then there had been the conversation with Garnett and her engineers about the damage to the ship. The Engineer had a good idea about what was wrong but reported that she needed to put a diver over the side to find out. Here was not an optimal place to do what she wanted and he had decided to head towards New Providence with the view that maybe they could have some shore leave for the crew while the engineers played with the engines. He knew that that would go down well with the crew, and he hoped that he and Rachel might be able to grab a couple of hours of privacy as well.

"Welcome aboard, Commander," he told his guest, extending his hand.

"It's good to be here, Captain," she replied, returning his shake as an older man in civilian clothes clambered over the side.

He turned to introduce the others, "Commander Mike Slattery, my XO and Lieutenant Commander Alison Wells, my TAO," he introduced.

She nodded, "Good to meet you both," she paused and turned to her companion, "And can I introduce Professor Trevor King, our ship's doctor," she grinned, "A bit over-qualified actually - I think he only signed up for this trip for the chance to see your Doctor Scott!"

"Oh?" asked Tom, immediately on his guard.

"Don't worry Captain," re-assured the man, "It's nothing like that. We were at medical school together at Cambridge. I haven't seen Rachel in nearly 15 years. We sat next to each other in lab for two years but when we finished she went off to Yale and I went into cardiology. Lost touch after that."

"Don't suppose you've got any good stories from uni?" interjected Mike.

The man grinned. He had quite a lot of laughter lines so Tom assumed he did that a lot. "Quite a few Commander, as it happens. But I doubt you'll get them out of me. Even at uni you didn't want to incur Rachel's wrath!"

Mike grinned back and looked at Tom, "He definitely knows her then!"

Tom smiled too. "Well, perhaps we can work on you over dinner? Rachel's just looking after a few impact injuries at the moment, but she'll join us in the wardroom in about 20 minutes." He looked at the Royal Navy commander, "You can spare time for a meal before you head back Commander?" he queried.

"On this ship, sir?" she enquired, "for certain. Let's just say – your reputation rather precedes you. And the idea of eating fresh food… Well I'll just say it's been a while."

He smiled, glad his guess had been right, "Actually Commander, one of my best friends from the Academy was in subs so I feel your pain. I've asked the XO and our cook to put together some fresh supplies for your crew. If you're game, we can have them sent over while we're eating?"

She smiled, "Thank you sir, on behalf of my crew. We've got a lot of first-timers and that'll make a big difference on the way back."

* * *

"Trevor?" She was stunned. It wasn't really what you expected, to find the man you'd crushed on at medical school sat across the table from your current boyfriend in the wardroom of a destroyer after an apocalypse.

"Rach!" he exclaimed, shooting to his feet. _He still looks hot_ , she thought. She'd been gutted when she found out he swung the other way, but he'd handled it really nicely and she'd picked herself up and they'd become firm friends. They'd tried to stay in touch afterwards but with living in different countries and both very focused on what they did, she supposed it had been inevitable that they'd drift apart.

"What are you doing here?" she asked as he swept her into a gentle hug. He'd always been like that. He was a big man but very gentle. It was one of the things that had attracted her to him in the first place. That, and the fact that he was breathtakingly hot, really intelligent, and always smiling.

He grinned at her now, "Well, when the opportunity came up to reconnect with the saviour of the world, I couldn't resist!" That deserved a smack so she slugged him in the arm, "Ow!" he complained, "Still just as rough as you used to be!"

"Don't you know it" she told him.

"Actually she's worse," joked Mike, "but don't complain to the Israeli commando who trained her!"

"Hmmph," she grumped, then asked Trevor again, "So why are you _really_ here?"

He raised an eyebrow, "That's basically it Rach. There aren't too many doctors around, certainly not ones who are happy to go off in a sub for months on end…"

"And the fact that you had to pull rank had nothing to do with this Prof?" said a tall, dark-haired woman wearing the rank of a Royal Navy commander, playfully. She turned to Rachel, "Commander Charlotte Richardson, Doctor," she introduced herself, getting up and offering her hand, "I won't say it's an honour because I'm sure you're heartily sick of that, but I will say it's a pleasure to meet you," she told Rachel, smiling.

Rachel took her hand. The Commander's grasp was firm, and her playful grin, twinkling brown eyes and banter with Trevor made Rachel want to trust her. "A pleasure as well, Commander," she replied. "Bad luck for having to make do with this lug," she nodded at Trevor, "I've got lots of blackmail material if you need it!"

"Oi oi!" replied the target of her comment, "That goes both ways Rach, and your erstwhile crew have already been pumping me for info." He touched his finger to his nose, "Which, of course, I refused to give to them."

She mock-glared at him, "And which you'll continue to hold back if you know what's good for you!"

Tom coughed, and she smiled inwardly, "Apologies Captain, Commanders," she told them as Tom inclined his head at her, "Rogers has a concussion Captain, nothing too serious. He's on bedrest in the Medical Bay, and a couple of impact injuries from being thrown around. They're all back in their beds sleeping it off."

Trevor looked surprised, "You're the ship's doctor? I thought you were a virologist?" he asked.

She looked at him, "Well, I do a bit of this and a bit of that. Unfortunately I've had a bit more practice at the medical side of things than I'd like over the past few months since we got back to the States."

Knowing it was still a sore subject for her, Tom intervened then, "Well why don't we all take seats and enjoy one of Bacon's special dinners while we get to know each other?"

* * *

"Man the rails!" The order went out as the British submarine was about to leave to head home. Tom had explained that in the old Nato days when one ship from a task force left there would be a formal farewell and it was normal for both ships to man the rails as a gesture of respect. He had suggested Rachel came up to the Bridge wing.

She was currently standing on the port wing of the Bridge as Nathan James plodded along at 10 knots on her way to Nassau. Talent would pass on this side before submerging and heading back to the UK. Tom had disclosed to her that only he, Mike and Alison Wells had known about the presence of the British submarine, which was why he hadn't told her. She didn't mind. She understood, of course, about operational security, and considering she'd kept the existence of the virus secret from him for four months she couldn't exactly complain in this instance.

It had been good to see Trevor again, and catch up on his news. His husband and son had been killed by the virus and he, like all of them, was desperately trying to make something of this new world they found themselves in. She had enjoyed talking to Commander Richardson, or Charlie, as the woman told Rachel to call her. Under other circumstances she thought they might have been friends. She had a wicked sense of humour as well. But their time together had been all too brief and Talent was heading back to the UK tonight.

And they were heading on to New Providence. She remembered some fantastic holidays with Connie to Nassau when they had stayed at a brilliant boutique hotel called The Causeway. She hoped it was still there, and she hoped that she would be able to persuade Tom to take a few hours off and go there.

"All hands! Face to port and salute!"

* * *

 _Unfortunately there were no reviews for the last chapter and there has been a big drop off in reviews over the past 4-5 weeks. Posting on FFnet is to some extent a confidence game and, whether rightly or wrongly, I interpret a lack of reviews to mean that the story is no longer interesting to people. Given that it takes about 25-30 hours (including research) to write a chapter and uses up a substantial amount of my free time in a week, I don't see that there's a lot of point in me carrying on if there's no interest._

 _I don't want to be one of those FF authors who's always begging for reviews, but similarly I write FF to interact with other fans and if there's no interaction it doesn't really work for me. If you would like me to carry on, please review. If this is the end, I'd like to thank everyone who has taken the time out to review, and particularly the lovely JennParis and tmtcltb, who have reviewed nearly every chapter – I would have stopped long before now without you two._

* * *

 _A/N1: I'm not a submariner or sailor, so this was a bit daunting. Also had to translate British Navy speak (metres, kilometres, port/starboard) into US Navy speak (yards, left/right). Hopefully I've got it reasonably OK._

 _A/N2: The submarine surface to air missile_ _ **is**_ _an existing technology but as far as I'm aware it's not in US or UK naval use._

 _A/N3: Some technical definitions: Spearfish is the Royal Navy's primary torpedo system. I'm told the sound is very different from an American torpedo; Prairie/Masker is a noise reduction system fitted to some US surface combatants, including Arleigh Burke class destroyers, which uses air bubbles to disguise shipboard noise; Nixie is a unit that looks like a torpedo that is streamed off the back of a surface vessel and makes a lot of noise, which is used as a torpedo decoy._


	33. Recovering: Chapter 4

_I do not own The Last Ship_

 _Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter. As you can see, I'm carrying on._ _Warning! This chapter is rated "M"._

 **Part 5: Chapter 4**

 **29 April 2015**

"Captain Chandler, an honor to meet you."

"You too Colonel White," he replied, "This is my XO, Commander Slattery." He wasn't sure what this was about. They'd communicated with what was left of the Bahamas government, asking for permission to bring Nathan James into their territorial waters and permission for the crew to take leave on a beach, and they'd been granted permission. He was kind of looking forward to that. He'd been hoping to take Rachel off for a few hours of together time. Maybe it could be their first date!

But as they approached the island and the town of Nassau came into sight in the distance, a customs cutter had approached them and its commander asked permission to board.

The man smiled at him. If the laughter lines on his face were any indication, he smiled a lot. "No, I assure you the honor is all mine, Captain. Yours and your ship's reputation precedes you. Given what the aircrew that brought the cure here were saying, I'm quite surprised you don't walk on water!"

Mike interjected, "Actually he leaves that to his partner!"

"Partner?" the Colonel was puzzled, and Tom shot Mike a glare.

"Dr Rachel Scott," Mike told the man.

"Oh! You know Rachel! I was going to ask you about her," the man replied, to their amazement, turning to Tom, "You're a lucky man, Captain," he told him. "Also a brave one if memory serves!" he added.

"I see you _do_ know Rachel," laughed Mike.

"Oh yes, she's been here a few times. Always stays at the Causeway which is owned by my brother. I've spent many happy times debating world politics, the drug trade or trying to find solutions to global poverty with the brilliant Doctor Scott, my wife and my sister-in-law." The man smiled sadly, in the way that they had become used to, which meant that he was remembering people who didn't make it.

"It's never enough, but my condolences for your loss," Tom told the man.

"It's all we've got left. All that makes us human," the man replied pensively, then noting their questioning expressions, he explained, "The ability to empathise with others. Thank you anyway Captain. As it happens my brother and I were immune to the virus. Unfortunately, our wives and children were not."

While not uncommon that people lost loved ones, it was still horrible to hear of it. The man stared into space for a little and then almost consciously brought himself back to the present, injecting some jocularity into his voice. "Anyway, Captain. Onto the reason for my visit. As a gesture of thanks for bringing the Cure, the Bahamas Government would like to offer the crew of Nathan James alternate accommodation ashore while you make your repairs. The Four Seasons resort is available, and we'd like to offer it to your crew for the next few days."

To say that Tom was gobsmacked would be a massive understatement. He exchanged glances with Mike, "Oh, er, thanks a lot Colonel. I don't know what to say."

The man smiled at him. "I know you need to speak to your superiors and your officers, Captain so I don't need an answer straight away. Maybe I could visit with Rachel in the mean time?"

* * *

"Fancy a mint julep, Tom?" As he relaxed on the beach and listened to the happy talking, shouting and in some cases screaming, of his crew, he felt like he'd made the right decision. The President had just told him to do as he thought was right. The man had said that if any crew deserved a break, it was his. His parting words hadn't been quite so supportive however. "Now you've sorted the Immune problem, the clock's ticking Tom," the man had told him, "No-one else has come forward so you need to think about what we discussed."

He knew, in his heart of hearts, that he did need to consider the CNO role that the President was offering, but now was not the time. Now was the time to celebrate and chill out. He pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind and resolved not to come back to them for a few days.

He took the proffered drink from Mike and enjoyed the tangy liquid coursing down his throat. It was great to see his crew relaxed like this as they all cavorted round in shorts, bikinis and T-shirts. Some were chilling on the beach, others in the sea. The shouts and screams were coming from the beach volleyball court where Green's boarders were being demolished by the Galley team. Who would've known that Bacon was such a beast at volleyball?!

He'd decided to make this full leave and remove all alcohol restrictions. The ship was operating with a skeleton crew, apart from in engineering, and Mike had devised a watch plan so that everybody, including the engineers, got some reasonable chill-out time on shore. The Bahamas government had pulled out all the stops and each member of his crew had a single room. Talking to the acting hotel manager, he had heard that staff had been brought in from all over the islands to take care of Nathan James' crew. Nevertheless, there was still a significant security presence here from Colonel White's people.

The only thing that was missing was Rachel. Shortly after Nathan James moored up at Nassau she'd asked permission to go into town. He knew she had history here. According to Mike her reunion with "Bernie" White had been extremely warm, so she obviously had strong feelings for the people and places here. They had agreed to spend the night on shore and he was hoping that the Four Seasons had found them somewhere private. He was dying to, but he wasn't really comfortable to, take their relationship to the next stage with all his crew within easy watching and hearing distance.

He had insisted she take Ravit with her. He thought that the Bahamas was likely free of Immune influence, but it was still worth being careful. He had expected she'd be back in a few hours but it was now four hours and still there was no sign.

He and Mike had been comparing the recent letters they'd received from their kids, when he became conscious that Mike had ground to a halt.

"What's up?" he asked, leaning forward. His friend was goggle-eyed.

"Don't tell Christine I said this, but your girlfriend looks hot in a bikini!"

"What?" he swung around to be greeted by a beautiful sight. Rachel, wearing an orange bikini with white polka dots and a yellow sarong, and Ravit, wearing a beautiful deep blue bikini and sarong set, were walking towards them, with Burk trailing a little behind Ravit. Tom could tell that at least half the men on the beach were staring at the twosome.

He was pleased for Rachel. She had shared her concerns about wearing a bikini with him, and recounted her experiences in Los Angeles. From some of their fondling Tom knew that Rachel bore a number of scars from her time on Vyerni but he had been able to truthfully tell her that now that they had healed, they in no way detracted from her beauty. For him they were simply evidence that his partner was a strong and admirable woman. When he had told her that she had broken down in tears and, while comforting her, he had left the decision of what to wear totally in her hands.

It seemed she had come to the right decision. While the scars were there, including one wicked looking one on her right side, they in no way detracted from the fact that she was an absolutely beautiful woman.

It seemed she and Ravit were aware of the reception they were getting if the laughing expressions as they chattered were any indication.

"Afternoon Mike, Tom," she told them as she drew up. "Don't think I didn't notice you checking me out Mike!" she joked to the XO, "Did you like what you saw?"

"Sorry Rach," the XO told her, "But you have to admit you look a bit different from usual. And yes. You both look brilliant!"

She cocked her head, "Hmmm, I think we'll let you get away with that," she grinned and turned to Tom, "And how about you Tom?"

"You look beautiful Rachel," he told her, and totally meant it.

"Good answer," she replied, "So, lover boy, ready to head to our hotel?"

"What?" he queried, shocked, "I thought we were staying here?"

"Well, you can if you want, but I've only spent the past two hours securing us a private villa at the Causeway," she grinned, "Which, with apologies to the Four Seasons, and in my very biased view, is the best hotel on the island. Aaaand," she continued, eyeing him lecherously, "there's no-one else staying there at the moment so it's totally private!" she winked, "if you know what I mean?!"

"Uh," he managed. Was she implying what he thought she was implying?

Mike made the decision for him. Picking up his travel bag which was beside his sun lounger, he shoved it into Tom's hands, "Off you go _lover boy_! I've got the watch tonight, so you're not due back aboard til tomorrow. Enjoy!"

* * *

"Don't worry Captain, it's totally secure," JJ White told him, "Bernie's had his teams checking the fences and they're all secure and your security team's given the whole property the once over as well."

They were all trying to lay his concerns at rest. When they arrived, Rachel had asked Bivas and Burk to stay at the Four Seasons and he had objected to the lack of security. They had both volunteered that they'd checked the whole property and that there was a security guard on duty 24/7.

"Come on Tom," Rachel pleaded with him, "We need some time to ourselves."

She was right, as she'd been about this place. It was beautiful. A small boutique hotel in better times, it consisted of fifteen villas with beach or garden views, a tennis court, swimming pool and beautiful gardens filled with tropical plants. He could imagine Rachel enjoying a place like this. Hell, he could imagine _himself_ enjoying this place.

"OK," he agreed, "as long as we keep our guns in the room."

Rachel sighed exasperatedly, but he could see she was happy nevertheless, particularly so when JJ told him, "That's fine Captain. I've got a gun as well and my dogs are a great alarm system." He smiled, and Tom could see the resemblance to his brother, "Don't worry – you'll be perfectly safe here. And, you'll have a great time!"

He hoped so. It had been a long time coming.

* * *

He needn't have worried. It had been a perfect afternoon. They had left their bags in the villa, and he had admired and plotted uses for the private hot tub, and then they had walked hand in hand through the tropical gardens down to the beach. And there they lay, under a solitary umbrella, alternately basking and talking. She was currently telling him about her life at school in the UK after her mother's death.

"I went to boarding school for six years. It was really difficult at first but once I settled in it was a hoot. All those mad things you hear about English public schools are true; fagging and debagging…"

"Fagging?" he exclaimed, surprised.

"Nah, it's not what you think," she replied, "different meanings on different sides of the Atlantic. In the UK a fag is either a slang word for a cigarette or, in English public schools (which, by the way are the most private of private schools) it's a term for a junior pupil who has to do loads of shit jobs for the upper years."

"I bet you were a real mini-Hitler!" he observed, grinning.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she grinned at him, "Actually – no. I was really nice. I was so focused on my exams in my last year that I barely registered that I had lots of pee wees to order around!"

"I can see that as well," he mused, "so what's de-whatevering?"

"Debagging…wait, you mean you don't have that in the States?" she asked, surprised.

"Not that I've heard of."

"Weellll," she gave the lopsided grin that he loved, and chewed her lip, "I suppose I could show you…"

"It's not painful is it?" he asked, worried about the grin because normally it meant trouble.

"No, totally painless," she reassured him.

"OK then," he replied only slightly nervously.

"OK…" she looked around and he couldn't quite work out what she was doing. "OK," she finally said, seeming to make up her mind, "Why don't you lie down here," she gestured to the sun lounger, "close your eyes and relax."

He did as instructed. "Well? I'm waiting."

"Hmmm," she breathed throatily, and he was conscious of her bending over him, as she ran her arms up the sides of his body. He was hyper-aware of her body in close proximity to his and things were beginning to happen.

"Whatever you're going to do, you better do it quickly!" he told her.

"Really?" she asked playfully, her hands were sliding down his sides now and finished up on his waist, either side of his swim shorts, "OK, you asked for it!" And before he knew any better she had slid his shorts down, leaving him naked. His eyes snapped open and he jack-knifed, trying to hide his nakedness.

"Woohoo! Tom's debagged!" she called from behind him. He could see her dancing around, swinging his shorts above her head.

"Rachel!" he yelled, mortified, "bring them back! NOW!"

"Oh no Tommy!" she shouted playfully, "You told me to! If you want them back, you'll have to catch me!" and she disappeared with a peal of feminine laughter.

He hastily looked around for something he could use to cover himself. _Bloody woman_. She had taken the towels. She was going to be in such deep shit when he caught her. _Wait, that leaf_ , he thought, _thank God tropical leaves are big_. The leaf in question was about 30 inches across and five inches thick, not big enough to wrap all the way round but enough to cover his modesty.

"Good effort Tom!" she called from afar, giggling again, as he wrapped the leaf around himself.

"You're going down now Rachel!" he shouted at her, both angry and amused, "when I catch you, you're in deep shit!"

"Gotta catch me first Tommy!" she jeered. Normally he hated being called Tommy but, in this situation, he had other things to worry about. He chalked that one up to the 'making her pay' category.

She led him a merry chase around the beach for a few minutes before making sure he saw her run into their villa. As he closed on the entrance her voice came from the shadows of their bedroom. "So, I don't suppose a kiss would earn me some forgiveness would it?"

"Probably not," he growled as he stalked into their room and closed the door, "but why don't you try it anyway?"

"Challenge accepted," she told him as she came around the wall, eyeing him up and down. "Nice view. But I'm not sure you the leaf adds anything to the situation!" she closed the distance, making sure to swing her hips sexily. "You looked so sexy, all flustered." As he went to respond she gently placed her finger on his lips and then pulled him in for a searing kiss. As she kissed him, she made sure to rub her breasts and body all over him, which had predictable results.

Finally, she drew back. "Aren't you going to do something about that?" she asked, giving him a toothy grin and flicking her eyes down to his semi-stiff penis.

"What do you suggest I do?" he asked.

Now she grinned hungrily, "Oh I could think of a few things, but how about…" and, without warning, she dropped to her knees, taking him in her mouth.

"Uggggh…." He couldn't help the moan of elation that erupted from his mouth as she moved her head and her tongue expertly. He was suddenly lightheaded as seemingly all the remaining blood in his body flowed south. It had been a long time and the feeling of warmth as she wrapped her mouth around him was amazing.

"Rach," he warned her urgently, "it's been a long time and I don't think I'm going to last very long if you keep doing that."

"Ohhh," she moaned, then pulled back a bit to tell him, "don't you worry about that."

She was taking good care of him, but he didn't want it to be all about that for the first time. "Rach," he tried again, "I'm supposed to be punishing you." She didn't stop and he knew he was close. _Bloody Hell_ , he thought. _No, this is not acceptable_. He pulled her up.

"What?" she demanded, petulantly, "I was enjoying that."

"Yeah, too much," he told her, giving her a deep kiss, "but you're the one being punished here." And with that he pushed her gently back onto the bed.

"Wha-?" she cried as he quickly stripped her bikini bottoms off. He could see that she was already aroused by the dampness of the material.

"Time for your punishment, Doctor Scott!" he told her, giving her a death's head grin as he licked his lips, "Don't scream too loud!" and then he went down on her.

She yelped as his tongue made contact and bucked as it sought entry to her, but he held her steady, hands roving up her body and finding her breasts. Then he began his work. _God, she tastes good_ , he thought.

"Tom…..no…" her breathy grunt nearly pushed him over the edge, it was so sexy. He pushed her bikini top aside and squeezed her nipples gently as he ran his tongue up her slit. "Ohhhhh…" she moaned. Then he went in for the kill, sliding his tongue further in while he used his lips.

"Oh. My. God." It was music to his ears. He kept on with his work, using his tongue and his lips, finding a wonderful rhythm and enjoying her moans and exhalations.

"Tom. Stop. Please," she moaned, and he could tell she was close as she grasped his hands over her breasts.

"No chance," he told her pulling back slightly, "take your punishment Doctor."

"No," she moaned, "you don't have to…please…no…stop. Stop! STOP! Aaaaaah!" he maintained his rhythm as she clenched around him. The orgasm was intense and as it ebbed away, he pulled back a bit, knowing that she would be very sensitive for a few seconds. He concerned himself with her nipples.

"If I'd known you taste so lovely I wouldn't have been able to control myself this long," he told her, enjoying the look of bliss on her face as she relaxed out of the orgasm.

"You are a very bad man Thomas Chandler," she told him, "but I love you."

He smiled at her, "I'm glad to hear that Rachel Scott," he told her, "because I love you too. But I haven't even got close to being bad!" and with that he kissed her deeply on the mouth, enjoying how their tongues intertwined. He broke the kiss, sliding down her neck, kissing, nipping, then her shoulders, inner arms, breasts, enjoying her moans, as he progressed down her sides, thighs, inner thighs and then back to her middle.

"No," she gasped, as he started again, "no, come up."

"No way," he told her flicking his tongue in briefly, "I'm going to eat you til you scream my name." And he set about his task again, quickly finding his rhythm. This time she was quicker. He didn't know if it was because he was better at what he was doing or because she was so aroused, but as she moaned and her body bucked and clenched tight around him he enjoyed the feeling of triumph and love that flowed through him.

As the tremors subsided, she tried again to get him to stop, "Enough Tom, please." He licked his lips at her. "I'm not stopping til you scream, Doctor Scott," he told her.

This time he could tell she was near the edge from the beginning. As he started to use his tongue he also used his finger and she moaned and bucked under his ministrations. "Please Tom," she begged, "I need you inside me. _Please!_ " He reached up and cupped her breasts, gently squeezing her nipples as he felt her get close again. Then he squeezed them hard. "Aaaah!" she screamed as her pelvis clenched and her body bucked. He kept going, riding the orgasm with her and when her back arched and he saw a silent scream of ecstasy ripped from her mouth, only then did he pull back and enter her.

"Oh. My. God." She moaned again. He felt the same. She was so warm and tight.

Needless to say, with them both so aroused, neither of them lasted long. Afterwards, they lay on the bed together, still attached and her body stretched the length of his, her head resting on his shoulder and him stroking her back. He enjoyed the sensation of this full body contact. It was so intimate. He looked up. Her beautiful eyes were staring into his face, looking almost green in the bright light.

"I love you Tom Chandler, heart, body and mind," she told him.

"I love you too Rachel Scott. Heart, body and mind."

* * *

 **2 May 2015**

They held hands on the Bridge wing as The Bahamas faded into the distance. Rachel wasn't sad to leave, because she knew they'd come back here again. They'd had two and a half days in total at The Causeway and she knew she would treasure the memory of every last minute of it.

After the first blistering time they'd made love they hadn't left the villa until the next morning, choosing to have their dinner delivered by JJ. They'd christened the huge walk-in shower and the secluded outdoor hot tub and then, in the morning, the bed again. Tom had returned to Nathan James in the morning and, rather than sit in the villa on her own, Rachel had gone to spend time with Danny, Alisha, Ravit and Carlton at the Four Seasons.

It had been fun to chill out with her friends for a couple of hours. They'd relaxed in the sun, mucked about in the pool, played beach volleyball and generally relaxed. But she'd missed Tom, and when he came back to pick her up and take her back to The Causeway later in the afternoon, she'd made sure she'd shown him how much, as soon as he walked in the door!

Needless to say that had led to another night "relaxing" in the villa. They'd certainly made the best of the villa, and JJ had told her that it would be theirs any time they wanted to come back to the resort. She could get on board with that.

But unfortunately, it was down to earth with a thud after that. Andrea and her team had managed to fix the screw so they were back to work, heading to Miami, up the west coast of Florida and then towards the south coast. Because of the delay after the ship was attacked, they'd sent relief flights to the big cities in the South. It would have been stupid not to. But they still needed to get boots on the ground and make sure that the Cure was being spread in smaller towns. So that's where they were heading now.

* * *

 _A/N1 There_ is _a Four Seasons resort on Paradise Island, but The Causeway is a figment of my imagination. It's based on a resort I stayed at many years ago in The Caribbean._

 _A/N2 I know certain people were waiting for this chapter with bated breath. Hopefully it didn't disappoint!_


	34. Recovering: Chapter 5

_I do not The Last Ship_

 **Part 5: Chapter 5**

 **16 May 2015**

"Rach, now that we've sorted the Immunes, the President's putting quite a lot of pressure on me to head back to Norfolk. As you know he wants me to take a senior leadership position." They had covered most of Florida and were heading west towards Texas now. The Bahamas seemed like another world but he still kept it in his head and he knew she did as well. It was the down payment on their future together.

"Are you ready to give up Nathan James Tom?" As usual she got right to the heart of the matter.

"I think so," he told her, "Don't get me wrong, I love being the Captain, but Mike's more than qualified and we're getting towards the next stage; rebuilding. We still haven't found any flag officers and the President made it clear he wants me. And, to be fair, I don't think I would trust it to anyone else. I just wondered how you felt about that?"

"Are you asking if I would join you in Norfolk?" she queried, not meeting his eyes.

"Yes, I know you like helping people one to one but I wondered how you'd feel about being based in Norfolk, or wherever the President decides the Capital's going to be?" This was the sixty four thousand dollar question, and he was nervous.

"Tom," she said, finally looking at him, and suddenly he could see the exhaustion in her eyes, her face and her entire body. "It's May now. That means I've been on the front line of the fight against this virus for 14 months. I went to Egypt at the end of March last year to sample the virus. I've been fighting it since then. Along the way, I've been ridiculed, ignored, isolated, shot, kidnapped, beaten, tortured, seen people I love die, lost so many friends and seen more dead bodies than I ever wanted to. At this stage the only thing that's keeping me on the Nathan James is _you_. If you want to go back to Norfolk I will embrace that with open arms. I'm totally _done_ with this virus."

His heart broke a little then for this amazing woman that seemed so strong on the surface but was dealing with so much. He would never have guessed that she was tired with what she was doing. That she had had enough. _I need to pay more attention_ , he thought, pulling her into a hug.

"Why didn't you say something Rach?" he questioned.

She sighed, pulling back from him, "Because you needed to be here. Because _you_ needed to finish it," she replied, then, "The President told me he wants me to head up CDC."

"Just like you said in the interview," he smiled, "Are you ready to give up your lab?"

She grimaced, "No, actually. Which is why I suggested that Connie and I serve as co-heads. Connie's much better about the admin side and she _is_ ready to give up the lab. If I do 50/50 I can still do research while also keeping the leadership role. He's thinking about that."

"When were you going to go?" he asked.

"When you were ready, or the end of this trip. Whichever came earlier," she told him.

She had been ready to put her life on hold for him. "While I'm very touched that you were willing to stay here for me," he told her, "You should have told me how you were feeling. Partners, Rachel – remember?" he asked her, lightly punching her arm.

"I'm sorry," she grimaced, "It's all got to me in the last few weeks. I thought I'd be OK til then. Getting back to the ship, seeing everybody, the sub, the Bahamas," here she wiggled her eyebrows, "but I think I've hit the wall."

"It's totally understandable Rach," he told her, meaning it. "You've been at this much longer than the rest of us and had to endure much more. I would be surprised if you _were_ alright, actually."

"I just feel that it's time now Tom," she said, "It's time to look to the future. To build for the future. To build our relationship, to embrace our family, our friends."

"I agree," he told her. "I'll tell the President and Mike and we can fly up from Florida if you want."

"So soon?" she queried, "You don't want to finish the voyage?"

He had wanted to, but now he knew what her had to do instead. "There's nothing left to do here that Mike can't do as well as me." He told her. before grinning at her mischievously, "But how will they cope without Dr Ross Welsh?"

She sniggered, "I'm sure Connie can find someone else, like Nick Milowsky."

"Milowsky?" he questioned, "but isn't he too important to cure manufacture? That's what Connie said."

"Are you kidding?" she asked, laughing, "he's gagging to get back to sea. Begs her every other week."

"That bloody woman," he growled, thinking of all the grief she'd given him with the Ross Welsh fiasco.

"I still can't believe you fell for that!" she laughed, "your face was so sweet!"

"If I were you," he warned her playfully, "I wouldn't be bringing that up. I still haven't got you back for that and let's not forget the debagging fiasco as well…"

"Well, in actuality the Ross Welsh thing was your own fault, Captain Chandler, but let's also not forget you owed me for the tea rejection and then going off on that mission against doctors' orders!"

"Oh, like that is it, Doctor Scott?" he retaliated, "But you don't deny I owe you for the debagging?"

"I thought I paid my debts in full on that one Captain," she shot back at him, nibbling her lip in that way she did when she was being playful that drove him mad.

"You made me run around a hotel _naked_." He growled at her, "We are not even close to being even for that Rachel Scott."

"Oh dear," she told him struggling to keep a straight face and worrying her lip again, "Well, maybe we can just keep that in reserve for the next time you step out of line!"

"Excuse me?" he exclaimed.

"You're a man," she told him grinning, "you can't help it."

"I'd watch it if I were you _Doctor_ ," he told her, "You're very close to attracting my most dastardly retribution."

"Ooh Captain," she told him, "I love it when you use long words. It's so sexy."

"Right, that's it," he told her, "you've done it now!"

"You bring it on Tom," she told him. He accepted the challenge.

* * *

 **20 May 2015**

Bang bang bang. _What is that? The door_. She struggled awake. "Rach?" It was Ravit's voice, "Are you in there?"

She struggled out of bed and to the door, "What's up?" she asked as she opened it. Ravit was standing there, looking quite aerated.

"Rach did you know about this?" Ravit started, then looked at her, "God, are you alright? You look like shit."

She moved back, letting her friend in, "Didn't sleep well last night," she explained. Not that she had really slept well for a long time. She'd been struggling really since the Immune attack, way back in February. Before now it had only been a few times a week. But for the last few weeks it really had been nearly every night. She thought her subconscious was really ready to go and it was telling her it didn't want to stay on Nathan James any longer. Which was why, having not really slept at all last night, she'd been dozing on her bed in the middle of the morning.

But all that was in hand now. They'd made their last stop at Houston shortly after her and Tom's discussion and now they were heading back to NAS Pensacola. She thought Tom would be happy. They'd done the whole of the US east and south coast, as they said they would. They had thought of going to Corpus Christi, but in the end just decided to send the Helo. Houston was more complex than they had hoped and they had needed their full concentration to deal with some of the local politics. But that was sorted now. They were heading back to Pensacola.

She had been surprised when Tom had told her they would head back to Pensacola. She would have just thought that they could just hop on a virus-relief flight to Norfolk, but Tom told her it wasn't done like that. There would have to be a proper change in command ceremony, and he wanted to do it at a Naval base. Apparently, there was one in Corpus Christi, but they weren't sure how safe it would be, so they were heading back to Pensacola, which they knew was secure from the journey out. _Each to their own_ , she supposed.

They'd talked a little about the mechanics of the future, and she supposed that that was probably why Ravit wanted to talk to her…

"What's up?" she asked her friend, already having a pretty good idea of what might be up.

"Did you know about this?" Ravit repeated.

"About what?" she enquired, sitting down on the bed and ceding Ravit the chair.

Ravit honoured her with a distinctly old-fashioned look, "You know, don't you?"

She smirked at the Israeli, "Enlighten me."

"About me being asked to command your security team," he friend told her, "And about me being offered US citizenship and a Major's rank in the Marines."

Rachel didn't know about _that_. "What?!" she asked.

"You heard me," Ravit told her, "Now – spill!" she commanded.

 _Time to come clean_. She held her hands up. "OK," she admitted, "I did know about the offer to be head of my security team. I asked for you after all. And I know Tom's asking Carlton to head up his. And I knew that Tom wanted to promote you, and he said that he was going to reach out to the Israeli government, but I didn't know about the US citizenship."

Ravit looked at her searchingly, as though trying to ascertain her truthfulness. But she wasn't lying. She wouldn't have asked for Ravit at all if the Israeli hadn't confessed to her about a month before that she had had enough of Special Operations. Ravit had seen a lot of action that didn't make the papers in the early part of her career, and what she'd seen after the virus and what they'd seen together over the past few months had been enough for her. She'd told Rachel that she wanted to do something that didn't involve killing or dead bodies for a while. When Tom said that she'd need a protection detail, and a head for that, Ravit's name had been at the top of her list. If she was honest, Danny's name had been on the list as well, and she knew Kara would have appreciated that, but she felt that Danny wasn't quite ready to call it quits yet and she didn't want to pressure him. If she'd asked, she knew he would have done it, but luckily she didn't need to.

"I don't know about it, but I can guess what happened," she told Ravit, "You know what Tom's like. He likes his i's dotted and t's crossed. He probably just wanted you where he could control the situation."

"But he doesn't know what he's asking," Ravit told her.

She agreed with that. Even though their birth countries were a shadow of their former selves, they were still their birth countries, "I agree," she told the Israeli, "He probably didn't really think it through from your point of view."

"What would you do?" asked Ravit.

She smiled sadly, "Well you don't see me in a hurry to give up my British citizenship, do you?" she told her friend, "I may have lived in the US for nearly as long as I've lived in Britain now, but I'm still British. Still proud to be British, if truth by told." She looked at her friend, "If they offered dual citizenship I'd take it, but I don't want to stop being British. Are you ready to stop being Israeli?" she asked.

One look at Ravit's face was enough to know the answer, "It's who I am," her friend answered. "Don't get me wrong, I'm very honoured to be offered the position, and US citizenship, but I swore an oath to protect Israel, and I don't think I can bring myself to swear an oath that would supersede that."

"Don't think that one goes with the other, love," Rachel told her, "You can still be head of my detail without being a US Marine or even a US citizen."

"But will the Captain see it that way?" she asked.

"He will, don't worry," Rachel replied, "Don't forget he's served with you. He knows you. And the fact that you're too honourable to take an oath that contravenes one you already took says everything about you." She paused, "And if he gives you any issues, you just tell me…" she grinned ferally.

* * *

 **22 May 2015**

Kara grinned as Rachel strode into the wardroom and stopped in shock, "Morning Rach," she called tfrom where she sat talking with Connie, Tex, Ravit, Danny and Alisha. Nathan James had arrived at NAS Pensacola yesterday and they'd flown down overnight. Now she, Connie and Tex were visiting together, waiting for the reason for their trip.

"What on earth are you doing here?" Rachel asked, heading over to their table where she was pulled into a tight Connie-hug, a boisterous Tex-hug and a gentle hug from the very pregnant-Kara. Kara wasn't sure if she should have travelled, but she _wanted_ to be here. Desperately. Besides, if something did go wrong she had a brilliant doctor here to take care of her.

"We're here for the change of command ceremony," Kara told her. It was not totally a lie. That _was_ one of the reasons they were here, "It's a big thing and we wanted to be here for it. Besides," she continued, "It was a good excuse to get out and see everybody." And it was. She had really been missing all her friends, and Rachel didn't need to know the rest of it for now. In fact, their group had been tasked by the two Captains with keeping Doctor Scott busy this morning, so that they could get everything sorted out and prepared.

"Yeah, and nick their food!" observed Alisha caustically to a round of laughter.

"I had no idea you were so tight," Kara told her, "It's only a few fries and Bacon already offered to make you some more…"

The man of the hour took that as his cue, "What'll it be Doctor Scott?" he asked, coming over to their table, "Anything special for your last morning with us?"

Rachel smiled up at the kind man, "Just toast please, Bacon," she asked, "Oh and-"

"And tea, Doctor, I know. Black, no milk," he replied, "You've got us well-trained by now."

The two shared a grin, "I don't know what I'll do without you Bacon," she told him, "I've gotten used to being waited on hand and foot but now I'll have to cook for myself again. And do my own washing up!"

"Nonsense," Connie told her to general laughter, "That's what men are for! Washing up that is!"

"Thanks, darlin!" Tex retorted, "Glad to be of service!"

Kara smiled along with the rest as Connie started to bemoan how many things Tex was useless at. She was looking forward to having Danny with her for the next few weeks. Since she was close to giving birth now they had asked for, and received, permission for Danny to come and live with her at Norfolk. With so many of the personnel from the tactical teams heading out, in Danny, Ravit and Burk, a detachment of SEALs from Norfolk had flown down with them so that Commander Slattery would have enough manpower to do what he needed. Hopefully they wouldn't need any extra manpower. Nathan James was due to complete her voyage around the Gulf of Mexico, make some stops around the Caribbean and head back to Norfolk anyway within the next few months.

There her crew could have some long overdue leave, and the ship could be refitted. They'd finally managed to get enough manpower together on the East Coast to launch another Arleigh Burke class ship. USS Forrest Sherman had been chosen, and she was due to launch next week and should be fully worked up by the time Nathan James came home. They'd also managed to get USS Halsey up and into action in the Pacific, as well as a number of Coast Guard cutters on both seaboards, which would be used for littoral operations. And that was why the President was desperate for Captain Chandler to take over as Chief of Naval Operations. Because now they had a Navy and they needed a head for it.

Captain, soon to be Admiral Chandler, had asked her to be on his staff and she had jumped at the chance. While she had enjoyed being military liaison to the President, it was a more senior slot than she had experience for and she was glad that a retired Marine Corps Colonel, John Ashton, had agreed to take it over. She enjoyed being a "doer" rather than an "explainer" and she thought she would enjoy the operations role that Admiral Chandler had offered her. And the fact that many of her friends would be around her was just a bonus.

She pulled her thoughts back to the present. Rachel was just finishing up her breakfast. She looked at her watch. It was 08.30. The VIPs were due at 10.30 so they had to keep Rachel busy for the next two hours. She looked at Ravit, who winked. The Israeli, along with all Rachel's friends, had been told what was coming. In fact, the whole crew knew. Only Doctor Rachel Scott had no idea. She hid a smile behind her hand. She hoped Admiral Chandler liked sleeping on the couch because she reckoned he'd be sleeping there for a few months after this! Then again, Rachel had put a few over on him over the past few months, so maybe this was his idea of payback, after all.

She knew that Rachel hated what she called "dog and pony shows" but her friend more than deserved this. And it was right that it would happen here among those who cared for Rachel the most. This crew was already starting to break up and move to where they were needed. It was right to do this now while all who could be were here.

They got up to leave. "Doctor Scott?" it was Bacon. Lined up behind him were all the Galley staff.

"Yes?" Rachel replied, noticing the line.

"We just wanted to say that it's been an honor to serve with you, Doctor." He nodded at Ravit as well, "And you as well Ma'am."

Rachel looked surprised for a second and then recovered. She stepped over and wrapped the man in a hug. Kara nearly burst out laughing at the shocked look on the man's face, while Tex wasn't so successful and gasped out a laugh. "I honestly will miss you Bacon," she told the man, "If you ever leave the Navy and open a restaurant, you come and tell me!" She stepped back, and looked him in the eyes, "It's been an honour to serve with you as well. Take care of yourself," she told him seriously. She squeezed his shoulders, nodded and then crossed to the line of Galley staff, to shake their hands.

* * *

 _Apologies for the late update but I was stuck in what must be the last place in Europe to have no internet connection. Finally back to civilisation!_

 _A/N As you probably guessed, we are very close to the end. Only one more chapter to go. And Tom is so gonna be in trouble!_


	35. Recovering: Chapter 6

_I do not The Last Ship_

 **Part 5: Chapter 6**

 **22 May 2015 (continued)**

"You know you're gonna be sleeping on the couch for a year, don't you?" Mike snarked at him.

They were sitting in the room that was no longer his cabin on board Nathan James. He and Richards had carefully boxed up his stuff and now all the things that had made it his space before were gone. All his stuff had already been moved off the ship and was probably aboard the plane they'd be flying north on by now. It was back to being an austere cabin cum office, albeit one with bridge repeaters and other tech that most cabins didn't have. He was sure that Mike would put his stamp on the room once he'd gone.

He thought about what Mike had said. He couldn't back out now. Rachel was already emotional about leaving Nathan James for good and he hoped that the events of today didn't tip her over the edge. She had told him to do his best that day, and he had. But he hadn't thought at the time how emotional today was likely to be for all of them and he was worried now it might be too much for her. But there was no backing out. They'd all have to do their best.

"Possibly," he acknowledged, "but I can always go home if I need to!" They had agreed that they needed to take their relationship slowly. Rachel was getting an apartment close to Danny and Kara, and Connie and Tex to start off with. She had been insistent that they needed to break their relationship to the kids slowly and not present them with a _fait accompli_. She didn't want to force herself onto them. Tom didn't think they'd have any problems given how much the kids already loved her, but was very touched nevertheless that she was putting their feelings first.

"Coward!" Mike observed. Then, deciding to put Tom out of his misery, he asked, "So, any tips?"

"Yeah," observed Tom wryly, "Don't sit in the wrong chair! I nearly did that a few times when I first came on board. I was so used to sitting on the left."

"I'll bear that in mind," Mike noted.

Tom looked at his friend seriously, "But don't worry. You already know everything you need to. And you'll make a great Captain Mike. Just relax and enjoy it. You certainly deserve it after everything we've dealt with."

"You mean dealing with you and your girlfriend?" Mike joked.

"That too," Tom agreed, "Although she's worse than me!"

"You just go right on believing that Tom," his former XO told him.

The phone buzzed on the bulkhead. Tom gestured to it and Mike picked it up, "Slattery. Oh, OK. Thank you sir. See you in ten." He turned to Tom, "That was Mr Wang. They'll be here in 10 minutes."

* * *

"Come _on_ Rachel!" Bivas sounded exasperated and well she might, Kara thought. It seemed to have finally dawned on their friend that she was leaving for good and Rachel Scott, seemingly the most confident woman in the world, was nervous. And those nerves had shown themselves in changing her outfit. Three times.

Kara wondered whether Rachel had caught on to what was happening, or whether she just was genuinely nervous.

"Sorry, sorry sorry," her friend chanted, "I'm just not good with formal. It's OK for you guys, you can just wear uniforms, but my uniform's a lab coat and I can't really wear that here. And Tom said that leaving is important to the crew and I don't want to let them down."

That was a fair point, Kara thought. Even if it had been tough levering her misshapen body into her uniform for this occasion.

"OK," the door of the bathroom opened, "Do I look OK?" And she did. She was wearing black trousers and shirt and a pretty pastel pink jacket that flared over her hips.

Kara smiled, reassuringly, "You look lovely hon. Now can we go?" Rachel nodded and the three of them set off towards the wardroom where the officers and, unbeknown to Rachel, some of the VIPs would meet before the ceremony. To maintain the surprise an announcement had not been made about the VIPs boarding. Well, one had been made on the deck where there had been a full honor guard, but for some reason the speakers on the lower decks had been turned off!

"Here we are," said Kara, reaching the wardroom door. She knocked and then opened it, ushering her friend through and sharing a grin with Ravit as the two followed her.

"Welcome Doctor Scott," said President Jeffrey Michener as Rachel stopped cold, her jaw dropping open. The President of the United States had grown into his role over the past three months, in Kara's view. While originally unsure, he was now reassuringly Presidential and she was sure that he was a great statesman in the making. She was very grateful for the time spent in his office seeing this transformation take place.

The President smiled, "Surprise!" he told her jokily and Kara could see the President's grin threatening to escape. Having worked closely with the man for a number of months, she knew he had a great sense of humor and was a real tease.

"Mr President?" Rachel gasped.

"Yes, Director," he told her, turning to Captain Chandler, who he had been speaking with, "I can't believe you got away with that Tom!"

The Captain gave Rachel a shit-eating grin, "Well, she did tell me to bring it on," he answered the President, and then turning to Rachel he cocked his head, "Payback's a bitch ain't it Rach?"

Kara thought that Rachel was going to blow her top as she stared fulminatingly at Captain Chandler. That was until her attention was stolen by the President, "But this isn't all of Tom's surprise, Rachel," he told her, before turning to Bill Wang, "Can you inform our guest that the other guest of honor is here?"

Bill grinned at the President, before heading to the door, "Yes sir."

"Guest?" asked Rachel, rictus-like and Kara felt for her friend. She probably knew what was coming.

"Yes," the President told her, nodding, as a tall man with red hair, dressed in the uniform of a Royal Navy Admiral, came through the door that Bill Wang had just passed through, "Allow me to introduce you to His Highness, King Henry IX. Your Highness, please allow me to introduce Doctor Rachel Scott, Co-Director Elect of the Center for Disease Control."

"Doctor," King Henry exclaimed, striding across the room, hand extended, "I've been looking forward to meeting you for some time. Oh please, none of that," he told her as she attempted to bow to him. He took her hand in his, and looked into her eyes, "Thank you," he told her. "For my life, and the lives of my people. I am truly honoured to meet you."

For the first time in Kara's acquaintance, Rachel Scott was speechless. She stared for a second, before smiling in a fragile way, and telling HRH, "Thank you, Your Highness. I'm honoured to meet you too. My condolences for the loss of your Grandmother. She was a truly outstanding woman."

The King smiled sadly, "She was," he agreed, "And I know that she would have liked you. At least from what Captain Chandler, President Michener and some of your medical colleagues have told me."

"Oh?" Rachel cocked her head at the King, and Kara nearly snorted with laughter. She doubted there were too many people who felt at ease enough with the King of the United Kingdom to cock their heads questioningly at him. She could see people around her also grinning as Rachel regained her confidence.

"Yes," replied His Highness, gesturing behind him to show Major Emma Christenson, Major Nicky Etherington in dress uniforms and a man in a suit that Kara didn't know, but assumed from the email traffic was Professor Trevor King. Next to them stood a man that she had spoken to and video conferenced with before, but never met in person. In their previous interactions he had worn the uniform of a Brigadier General, now he wore the uniform of a full General. On the whole, she rather thought that General Wilkins deserved his promotion.

Rachel stared hard at the medics then smiled at the King, "You shouldn't trust what these reprobates tell you, Your Highness. Especially Trevor, he's full of it! And while I can't lay hands on the President, Captain Chandler can be assured he'll be sleeping on the sofa for the next decade!"

The King laughed a deep belly laugh, "Actually Doctor, you come exactly as advertised! They told me you'd be shocked but once you regained your equanimity you'd come out swinging! My Grandmother liked feisty women. I'm sorry you'll never get the chance to meet her, but I'm very happy I got the chance to meet you." He looked at the Captain, "Now, Mr President, Captain, shall we get this little show under way?"

Rachel swung around to stare at both Tom and the President. "What are you two up to?" she asked.

"Just a small presentation Rachel," the President told her, "Before we head back to Norfolk. Nothing fancy."

* * *

"Nothing fancy" he had said. It just went to show that you should never trust a politician! As she sat on the plane she reflected back on a two hours that in future years she knew she would remember with pride. But for now she was just too damn embarrassed.

When they had gone on deck, she hadn't recognised it. Beside the flight deck a huge prefabricated stand had been erected on the side of the dock and it was filled with people. She'd found out latterly that it had been families of the crew, but also people that she'd had contact with over the past several months and years. Connie had been there, of course, with Tex and Kat. But Mike and Ethan, who had been part of her security detail but had stopped off on the way, had also been there. Bob Nash, her security team leader from when they had been inland had been there, as well as all of the team that weren't with them on Nathan James. Members of Nathan James' crew who had been injured in the Immune attack and were too ill to return had been there. And she had been really delighted to see Miguel, the amputee who had been her friend at CDC in Atlanta. She had out-loud wondered to Connie if he'd made it and it seemed her friend had remembered that conversation. Tom's family had been there, as had Mike's. And Bernie and JJ White were also there. With the British contingent, all the people that were left that she cared for in the world had been there, and she couldn't help but be touched by the effort that someone had obviously gone to to make that happen. Obviously Tom was still very much busted, but at some point she would have to thank he, Connie and Kara for all the work that they had obviously put in.

And next to the stand was the crew of the Nathan James. Standing in straight rows on the flight deck in their dress whites.

It had begun with the change of command ceremony. But after that the fun and games had started. The President had announced Tom's promotion to Admiral and his appointment as Chief of Naval Operations, which was roundly applauded by all and sundry.

And then they had gone on to her. It hadn't been so bad when she could sit next to Tom and Mike, but then the President had called her up to the front and, as she tried to deal with the gut-wrenching embarrassment of being thanked for doing her job, she'd been secretly plotting how to repay all her so-called friends for this horrific experience. She had finally decided on introducing a diuretic into their food and the mechanics of that revenge and the thought of the results had carried her through the President awarding her a Navy Distinguished Civilian Service Award for risking her life to save the lives of four sailors (like no-one else did that on that day?) and the absolutely most embarrassing, a Presidential Medal of Freedom - With Distinction. Like anyone who wasn't qualified wouldn't have fought tooth and nail to save the world? She wasn't special in that. She'd just done what any reasonable person would have done. And she'd had a lot of luck.

She'd made the mistake of looking at Tom when she was trying to find anything to focus on that wasn't the President's words, and been surprised to see his face working with emotion. Mike stood beside him with tears dripping down his cheeks. That had nearly set her off. Seeing these two strong and hard men, that many saw as emotionless and rock solid, reduced to tears really brought out to her the stress they'd been under. Just as the fate of the world had hung on her, it had hung on them as well - given the task of rescuing her. The emotion nearly got to her then, but she was able to start reciting the periodic table in her head and she physically made herself look elsewhere. It wouldn't be good for the recipient to burst out crying!

But it wasn't finished. Then it was His Highness' turn and she had been right to be worried. He had smiled at her, "When I met Doctor Scott earlier, we discussed my Grandmother, Queen Elizabeth, and I thought that that was apt, given the award that I am going to make today," he looked up, "At the end of the day, what do you give to the woman that saved the world? I know she'd prefer if we just said thank you and let her get on with her life." _He's damn right about that_ , she had thought, "but that's not politically acceptable. I think I'd be lynched by the British public if I tried that! But similarly, there is no existing award that lives up to this. So we've decided to make one. Kneel please, Doctor," he told her.

She knelt, almost in a dream. Was he going to give her a dame-hood? "Doctor Rachel Anne Scott," he announced, "It is my pleasure to make a joint award today. You are appointed Dame Grand Cross of the Royal Victorian Order. The Royal Victorian Order is an order which recognises those who have made a personal service to the Sovereign. Ensuring that our country continues must be the ultimate service. But to differentiate your level of service we have also seen fit to appoint you a Mistress of the Order of Queen Elizabeth. You are unique in the world with this award. It will never be awarded to another person." He unsheathed the sword presented to him by a smiling Nicky Etherington, and touched it gently on her shoulders, "Arise Dame Rachel. You have my thanks, and those of the people of the United Kingdom, and indeed the entire Commonwealth."

Luckily after that it was over, and while she was still gut-wrenchingly embarrassed, not least with the freakishly bejewelled ribbons that had been draped around her neck, she had enjoyed the reception which had taken place on the flight deck and it had been nice to catch up with her friends and say goodbye to those of the crew who she hadn't caught over the past few days.

She was very chuffed when Connie brought Miguel over. The man had hugged her gently in the way she remembered so well. It was only 14 months since she'd last seen him, but it already felt like another lifetime.

"It's lovely to see you again Doctor," he had told her.

She had smacked him on the arm, "What's with the Doctor? You always call me Rach!"

He had had the decency to look embarrassed, "Well, I thought with you being Director and famous..."

"Don't be daft! I'm still me - you big prat," she told him, then looking around because she thought that he'd been sitting next to a young girl, "Is your family OK?"

"Yes," he replied happily, "When the virus started to move fast I was on leave with a friend in the country. We stayed there, so we weren't at Atlanta when it was attacked. I still remember my fieldcraft and I was able to hunt and forage for food. We stayed there until I heard your voice on the radio," here his voice cracked, "and then I knew everything would be OK. I made contact with Dr Hu and she'd talked about me coming to Norfolk. Then she called a few days ago and asked if we wanted to come today. And I said Hell, Yes!" She'd met his wife Conchita, and two daughters, and she'd introduced him to Mike and Christine, hoping that the kids might get along together.

Then Tom had pulled her away to see Jed, Ashley and Sam. As she bent down to kiss and hug Ashley, the little girl asked, "Are you staying with us when we get home Rachel?" She had looked up at Tom, who explained, "I told them that we were together."

She smiled at the little girl, and her brother, "Not immediately," she told them, "We decided that we'd live apart to start with to give you guys the chance to get used to us being together. If it's all good then maybe I'll move in after that. But you two are the most important for us now. We want you to be comfortable with us being together." After a quick hug and a catch up, they were pulled away again.

And again. And again. It was a whirlwind of hugs and kisses, thanks, reminiscences and well wishes.

And who could forget Danny's proposal to Kara? On the flight deck in front of a President, a King, two flag officers and the rest of the crew.

And their final departure had been just as tough as she expected. But by then she was ready for it. As the tannoy intoned, "CDC, Naval Operations, departing" the crew had lined the rails and she and Tom had walked together down the gangway without looking back. It was time to get on with the next stage in their lives.

* * *

She looked up as someone spoke to her, "Is this seat taken?" she looked up to see the King. They were on Air Force One on the way back to Norfolk. While the President didn't normally use it, they'd brushed off the old Air Force One for this trip. The extra capacity was needed what with the Royal entourage, officers and their families.

"Uh, no Your Highness," she told him, "Tom's gone off with the kids to get some drinks but he doesn't seem to be rushing back."

"Fair do's," he told her, "I will, of course, surrender the seat if the Admiral wants it!" he looked at her. "I'm sorry we had to do it this way. I knew from what everyone said that you're an intensely private person, but I thought it's better to get it out of the way."

"Sir?" she gasped.

"I'd rather if you called me Harry when we're in private, or with the family," he told her, meaning his staff. He smiled at her shocked expression, "I never expected to be King. I was the spare, you know. William and I were always pretty informal anyway and I don't see any reason to change that now. I'm quite a private person as well. I hate having to be this great figurehead, but I can see it's necessary. So, you see, we're quite similar actually."

She supposed they were, both stuck in a role that neither had wanted, so she smiled, "I was just doing my job," she told him.

He smiled sadly back at her, "You know, that's what they all say. Heroes I mean. No, wait" he held up his hands as she went to deny that she was a hero, "I've met them all you know - VCs, GCs, CGCs, knights. And you know all the genuine ones because that's exactly what they say - "I was only doing my job". I know in your mind, and in theirs, you were only doing your jobs and I applaud you for thinking that way, but what you did, in the conditions you did it in, was amazing." He smiled at her again, "Anyway, I won't labour that point. I just wanted to say that, now you're not worried about being ambushed, I hope you'll come back to Britain regularly. I know your life's in the US, but don't be a stranger!"

She giggled, "Don't be a stranger?!" she asked, surprised by the colloquialism, and he grinned back. She nodded, "I won't. I'd like to bring Tom's kids over so that they can see the country. The problem is, I might need a guide. I'm great on Oxford, Cambridge and Brighton, but the rest I'm pants on!"

"I'm sure that can be arranged," he told her, "and I'm sure I could speak to my contacts and get you in to see the Crown Jewels if you want?"

"Contacts?" she asked playfully, "Aren't you the head honcho?"

"As you know, it's purely ceremonial," he told her, "We're pretty close to having elections actually, I know Roger Wilkins is dying to hand over to an elected civilian government. We've been on martial law since October. Talking about people fulfilling roles they didn't expect…"

"I guess there's a lot of us," she mused, "now I think about it."

"For sure," he replied, "It really is a brave new world out there. It's going to be tough, but we have a good chance of making a better world this time."

* * *

 _A/N1: And that's it._ _I hope you enjoyed it._ _I planned to do an epilogue but I've kind of lost my mojo. If I ever get it back again, I'll post it here. Otherwise, this'll just have to be it._

 _A/N2: VC stands for Victoria Cross, Britain's highest award for gallantry, GC is George Cross and CGC is Conspicuous Gallantry Cross, the second highest gallantry award in the UK. Quite a few have been given out for service in the Middle East and Prince Harry regularly does investitures._

 _A/N3: Thanks to all those who have reviewed, particularly Jennparis and_ _tmtcltb, who have reviewed practically every chapter. You really kept me writing. I don't think I would have made it through February if it wasn't for your reviews!_

 _A/N4: I have other ideas in this AU TLS universe but don't expect anything soon. I prefer to have a few chapters written before I start posting._


	36. Epilogue

_I don't own The Last Ship._

 **Epilogue**

Mark Lewis looked at the email that had just arrived in his inbox with some concern. As a journalist he was used to his subjects not liking what he had written about them, but this time it really felt like it mattered. _Perhaps because it does_ , he thought to himself. It didn't always happen, but he had really liked the subjects of his interview and he felt that he had "clicked" with at least one of them.

And that had come through in his writing. _And the subject matter didn't hurt either_ , he mused. His editor had said that it was one of the most powerful pieces she had ever read, and the world had agreed. Both issues of the Sunday Times magazine that his articles had featured in had sold out and their website had crashed with all the demand. In fact, his articles were the site's most downloaded since the Red Flu and within the top 20 downloads on the site of all time.

But he was realistic enough to know that that wasn't down to his writing. No, that was entirely down to the unique couple that were the subject of his piece. And as he stared at Dr Rachel Scott's email in his inbox, he once again recalled that rather surreal day he had met her.

* * *

It had started off surreal, right from the beginning. He had known nominally that Dr Scott and her husband stayed in an apartment in the same complex as the King when they were in the UK. It was what used to be called a "grace and favour" home and had been assigned to Rachel on her first visit to the UK after the Red Flu. Well, as the doctor herself had said, her first "vertical visit". She had, after all, been treated briefly in the UK after her rescue from the Vyerni.

On that day, he'd been reflecting on luck. And how his seemed to have changed in the past few years. For starters there had been the Red Flu. He'd been on holiday in southern France when the Flu had hit and he'd gone to ground with the Dubois family with whom he'd been staying, at their farm near Uzès. The well on the property, coupled with the fruit and vegetables grown there, meant that they could stay isolated and free of the virus for a long period of time. It had been hard, manual work but they'd all remained virus-free until the cure had been circulated in their area. So, straight away, he was one of only 10% of the world population that had survived. That was certainly lucky.

He hadn't known what to expect when he came back, but the utter desolation of the cities had stunned him. Nimes and Avignon had been ghost towns and he'd had to hitch lifts north to get anywhere near the UK. Eventually he'd been told, by a policeman no less, to just take a car!

Things hadn't been any better in the UK. He had had to give up his lovely flat in North London because there was hardly anyone there. And that meant no-one to drive the buses, run the Tube, open the shops, fix the electricity or water or tend to the upkeep of the area. Since many of the historic buildings in Central London had been kept open for posterity, the surviving population of the city had clustered more into the centre of town, but the "city" still only boasted a few tens of thousands of people and the administrative capital of the country was still in Portsmouth. That was where the military headquarters was, the King lived, and the fledgling political leadership had also established its base.

So that's where he had headed. It worked for him because his cousin Charlie had been on General Wilkins' staff. In fact, Charlie was his only surviving family. He knew he wasn't in the minority in having most of his close family wiped out, but it still hurt. He missed his parents, sister Jan and his uncle Chris. But Charlie had been great. She'd opened up her house to him and, while they hadn't been particularly close before the Flu, they'd built a relationship afterwards. She was the perfect housemate as well; regularly leaving to go on overseas deployments with her submarine thus leaving him home alone for long periods of time.

The Times had offered him his job back very quickly and he'd been happy to take it. He enjoyed journalism; writing was fun for him and he enjoyed interacting with people. He'd covered the fledgling government and politics until, one day, this job had come up.

He knew he'd only got this job because Charlie had vouched for him. The Times had been pushing for this interview and because Charlie knew he was trustworthy, she'd recommended him to her friends. She'd been quite mysterious about how she'd first met them, but had happily told him that they'd become close on the Family's first trip to the UK when she'd been their local chief of staff (which effectively meant tour manager). She was now classified as a friend of the family and stayed in their house when she was in Norfolk.

Which was why he was there that day. While nobody had heard of Doctor Rachel Scott and Admiral Tom Chandler before the Red Flu, it was probably fair to say that they were the most well-known couple in the world these days. And he was the only UK journalist who was to meet them on this trip. In fact, he was the first UK journalist to get a feature interview with them, ever.

He'd been nervous enough when he'd knocked on the door that morning, without it being opened almost immediately by His Majesty King Henry IX. As he'd stood there trying to catch his breath, the King had inspected him quizzically, "Are you the journalist?" he'd asked.

Mark had only managed a slightly stunned nod, "Don't worry," the King had told him, "she's a pussy cat, really!" He'd grinned at Mark's flabbergasted expression before waving him inside. "I was just leaving," he'd explained, as Mark's legs finally started working. Then he'd called, "Rach! Your journalist's here. Be kind!"

Finally, Mark was able to speak, "Thank you Your Highness," he'd told the King as they passed in the doorway. The King simply grinned at him and sketched a wave, before heading out the door, closing it after himself.

Mark had discretely pinched himself on the arm. He really couldn't believe that this was happening to him, but the pain told him he wasn't dreaming.

"Looks like you need a cup of tea," an amused female voice had observed from behind him and he swung around to see practically the most famous woman in the world standing in a doorway. She was dressed in a pair of jeans and a figure-hugging cream jumper and her dark hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail. She was grinning at him and he was surprised how much it altered her visage from the file pictures he had seen where she'd looked serious and professional.

He finally managed to get his thoughts in order. "Doctor Scott," he exclaimed, moving forward, hand outstretched, "It's a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for choosing me for this interview."

Her handshake was a firm handclasp and she smiled again, "Well, you came highly recommended and Charlie's a friend," she told him, turning into the doorway she was standing in, "Come with me and you can set up your gear in the dining room. Tom's on a call with the States but he'll be down when he can." She guided him through a room with a couple of sofas, a widescreen TV and a box of Lego in the corner to an adjoining room with a dining table and chairs. "You can set up here," she told him, "I'll leave you to gather your wits," she observed, smiling at him empathically. "Don't worry, I totally understand that bumping into the King wasn't what you were expecting today. Welcome to my life." As he smiled back at her, she grinned again and left to make the tea.

* * *

She had kindly given him six or seven minutes, for which he was very grateful. It was certainly longer than it took to make a tea. By the time she returned with the two steaming mugs he had regained a measure of his equanimity and set up his recorder and notebook.

He had enjoyed the tea and had enquired what it was. "A man of taste," she had observed, "unlike my husband! It's Camellia Sinensis," she grimaced, "difficult to get these days but hopefully the supply will open up again soon. His Highness always greets me with some when I come to the UK but he won't tell me where he gets it from. I think he only does it to keep me coming back here!"

"And does it work?" Mark asked.

She winked at him, "I couldn't possibly comment!"

"Do you enjoy coming here?" he asked, "After all this is the sixth or seventh time you've been back since the Flu."

"Counting, are we?" she teased.

"Well, you are kind of hard to miss," he told her.

"I didn't enjoy the first time," she told him, "It was a bit overwhelming…"

"I can understand that," he agreed. Charlie said she was a very down to earth person so being greeted at the airport by the Prime Minister and then having a full police escort along roads lined ten-deep with people waving Union flags and Stars and Stripes, to an audience with the full Cabinet and the King _was_ probably a bit intimidating.

"But after that it's been fine," she continued, "and I'm very grateful that people just treat me normally. Particularly when we bring the kids," she smiled at the mention of Admiral Chandler's children who she was reportedly very close to.

"It must be very strange to you…?" he observed.

"Yes," she told him, looking into his eyes, "it _is_ difficult. I'm not good at politics. At the end of the day I'm a scientist. I'm good with scientists and academics. Politicians – not so much!"

"But you're good with people!" he told her. She had put him very much at his ease, after all.

" _Nathan James_ ' crew wouldn't have said so at the beginning…" she observed.

"But they damn well would have at the end!" came another voice and Mark sprang to his feet as Admiral Tom Chandler strode into the room. He wasn't wearing his uniform that day, opting for jeans and a green and white checked shirt, but it was still clear that he was a military man.

"Sorry I'm late," he exclaimed, reaching out to shake hands, "Tom Chandler."

"A pleasure to meet you Admiral," Mark replied, returning the firm handshake.

The Admiral grinned at him, "By the way, it's bullshit that she's not good with people. It's just that she gets so tied up in her work, she forgets to interact."

Dr Scott had sighed exasperatedly, "I'll just let you conduct the interview on my behalf, shall I Tom?" she enquired acerbically.

"Like you can't get a word in edgeways!" he grinned at her and turned back to Mark. "From the smell of it, she made you drink some of that camellia rubbish. Did you want a proper drink?" he enquired, cheekily.

"Actually, I quite enjoyed it Admiral," Mark replied, as Rachel made approving noises, "So I'll stick."

The Admiral shook his head, "You Brits and your dodgy drinks," he muttered, heading over to sit next to his wife.

Rachel grinned, "Don't mind him," she told Mark, "He's still antsy after his SAS mates got him trashed on cider and let him loose on Karaoke!"

"Ha bloody ha!" retorted her husband pithily, "Where I come from, cider doesn't have alcohol in it!"

"Yes, Tom," she replied in a long-suffering way, "But _we're not_ where you come from at the moment, are we?"

"Besides, you weren't exactly falling over yourself to help," he continued plaintively as though she hadn't spoken.

She giggled, "You were already rat-arsed by the time I got there, remember? Besides it was just too funny watching you murder _I Will Survive!_ "

The Admiral shook his head at her in a long-suffering way, "You are so dead," he groaned.

"Uh, uh," she shook her finger at him, "Remember – I've got the video!"

Mark couldn't believe it. Here he was watching Rachel Scott and Tom Chandler, the heroes of the world, bicker like kids. He had smirked. After all, their banter was hilarious.

"Sorry, Mark," Rachel told him, noticing the smirk. She tried to make a contrite expression but couldn't quite manage, which somehow made it more endearing, "Sometimes we can't help ourselves. Ask away."

He put on his game face, "So you've been married for what, a year now?" They both nodded, "How are you enjoying married life?"

Tom reached out for her hand, and smiled at him, "From my side it's been great," he replied, "Rachel?"

She looked at him, "I agree. It's much better than I ever thought married life would be."

"Oh?" he queried.

She shrugged again, "Well I never thought I'd get married," she confessed, "I was always married to the job. Men tended to fall by the wayside when you had to drop everything to run off after the next virus." She smiled at her husband, "Luckily I don't have to do that anymore, but even if I did, I know he'd understand." He nodded, and she continued, "But I wouldn't anyway – it's not fair to the kids."

They both smiled. "That would be Ashley and Sam?" he queried, and she nodded. "Any plans to have any more?" he asked.

They smiled at one another sadly, "Unfortunately not," she replied, squeezing the Admiral's hand, "My experiences when I was kidnapped mean that I can't have kids."

"Oh my God!" he exclaimed, "I'm so sorry. I hadn't meant to bring up a difficult subject."

"It's OK," she tried to smile, "We've accepted it now. I won't say it didn't hurt but we found out a while ago and we've gotten over it as much as we can. Besides," and here she managed a genuine smile, "We've got two beautiful kids anyway." This time _he_ grasped _her_ hand and Mark could see in his eyes how much it meant to the Admiral that the Doctor clearly loved his kids.

"You touched on your experiences when you were kidnapped," he prodded, "You seem to have dealt with that quite well?"

She looked down before taking a deep breath and facing him, "In public I probably got away with it. But in private it's been tough," she told him, "There've been a lot of false dawns. I thought I was OK and then it came back. The PTSD, I mean." She looked down again, gnawing her lip, "To be honest, I don't know if the old, pre-virus me _would_ have been able to cope, but I've been very lucky in my friends and my new family and they've really supported me through it. It's amazing to think that I have a better support network now than I did before the virus. I'm very lucky."

"Bullshit!" The Admiral exclaimed, turning to his wife, "You made your own luck. And there's not one of us that won't be there whenever you need us." He squeezed her hand again, before turning to face Mark, "She's the bravest person I've ever met," he explained, "Both for what she endured on the Vyerni, and for how she's handled its aftermath. She doesn't give up, and most importantly she doesn't bottle it up. She tells us when she's having a bad day, and that works for us. We can help her when we know. And we do."

"You haven't told journalists this before though?" queried Mark, slightly shocked by the amount of information he had been given.

"No," replied the Admiral, "But Charlie told us we could trust you, and His Highness is leading a campaign on mental health awareness. We agreed to talk a bit about our experiences. It _is_ important that people talk to their friends and family and we wanted to show that, for us anyway, it does work."

He understood now. Charlie must have known this. Boy, had she done him a favour! This was definitely worth a case of that minging beer she drank! Mark looked at the woman sitting across from him. Her eyes were moist and she bore a haunted expression, but her back was straight and the only other sign of stress was the way she gripped her husband's hand like a talisman. The Admiral was right. This was a brave woman. He sought to change the subject to give her a chance to recover.

"Was it strange having both the President of the United States and King Henry at your wedding?" he ventured.

She smiled at him gratefully, aware of what he was doing. "Totally," she replied, "but the President is our Boss and, anyway, Tom saved his life, and I can't quite believe that King Henry is a personal friend to both of us! Sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming." Mark smiled internally, thinking about how he had felt after bumping into the King.

"And how did that happen?" he queried.

They looked at each other, and the Admiral replied. "Well, the King was already a fan of Rachel's," he grinned, as if to some private joke, "and then we met a couple of times when he conferred our knighthoods and again when we brought the kids to the UK. He sort of adopted the kids and us, I suppose. And now he bribes her with that gross tea."

"Oi!" retaliated his wife, then she looked at Mark pensively, "I think this virus was a big social leveller," she told him, "Like all of us, His Highness lost a lot of people he cared about." She paused, "You make new friends where you can. There are so few of us left you don't have to stand on social classes or religion or anything like that. It truly is a brave new world."

That was more profound than he expected. And it begged a question. "Doctor Scott-"

"Rachel," she interrupted.

"Rachel," they shared a smile, "The world has been clear of the virus for nearly 14 months now. Do you think it could ever recur?"

She looked down, and then directly at him. "That's a really difficult question Mark," she told him, "Will that virus ever recur? No. We're protected now and unless something happens to mutate it – no, that one will not threaten us again. But could another virus threaten the human race? Yes, it could. We believe this was an ancient virus that was exposed by the melting polar ice caps. The polar ice caps are still melting, despite the fact that with 90% of the Earth's population dead we are emitting 90% less Greenhouse gas, and they probably will go on melting for many years to come. So, yes, unfortunately the answer to your question has to be yes.

"The good news though is that Dr Connie Hu and myself and all our staff have spent the past 18 months rebuilding the CDC, and it's a truly global organisation now. While it'll take decades to rebuild the human resources we lost to the Red Flu and the Immune attacks, we're starting to build a skeleton global network again."

The Admiral interjected, "And I gather that, for some reason," here he grinned, "all the kids want to be virologists these days, so maybe they'll be better funded than they used to be!"

"We can hope," his wife agreed, "but I give it five years before we have to fight for every dollar of our budget. Let's face it; politicians have short memories!"

The Admiral's face was a picture as he asked, "Don't you want to rephrase that Rachel?"

"Not really," she told him defiantly, "It's true."

She was right that she certainly wasn't a politician. Hard-pressed not to laugh, Mark dropped in another question, "So Doctor Scott, before you got married did you have a conversation about changing your name?"

The Admiral swung round to stare at him, and Mark got the distinct impression he'd hit a nerve. Rachel smiled and observed, deadpan, "It did come up."

"Oh?" he queried, making sure to look at her and not the Admiral, whose glare was really quite intimidating.

She looked at her husband fondly, "We arrived at a deal," she explained, "Somebody here's a bit of a traditionalist," she said, nudging her husband, "but we agreed that I would remain Doctor Scott professionally, even though I'm Mrs Chandler for everyday life."

"Oh, I didn't know that," he replied.

"Well, since the world knows me as Doctor Rachel Scott, I'm not surprised," she observed, impishly. "If it wasn't for the kids I would have suggested _he_ became Admiral Scott!" She paused as her husband had a coughing fit, "There, there darling. Just kidding!" she grinned at the glare he sent in her direction.

Seeking to defuse the tension, Mark had dropped in some background questions and Rachel had winked at him as she recognised what he was trying to do. The interview had broken up shortly after that as a priority call had come in for Rachel from her co-Director Connie Hu, and she had had to go away to take it. Interestingly, even though he was friendly enough, Mark had found Admiral Chandler significantly less loquacious than Rachel. And quite intimidating as well. While Dr Scott was definitely Rachel, he wouldn't dream of calling Admiral Chandler "Tom".

He had spoken to a number of their friends and contacts for background material. He already knew Charlie of course but she had been deployed with _Talent_ at the time so they had had to speak remotely. In the UK, Charlie had recommended he spoke to Professor Trevor King who had been at Uni with Rachel. In the US, Rachel had put him in contact with Dr Connie Hu (who had been a riot, and had known Rachel for over 10 years before the Flu) and Jed Chandler, the Admiral's father, who had originally been a bit distrustful but had warmed up to him over the course of their conversation, and had shared a few brilliant anecdotes about the Admiral, and also about Rachel, who he appeared to dote on.

Nobody had got this sort of access before to the world's hottest couple and he had tried to do his best to do justice to their story and to them. Not because he was angling for more access but because he thought he owed it to them in light of their achievements, and everything they had gone through to realise those achievements.

He thought he'd written a good article. He could only hope they did too. Taking a deep breath he opened the email.

 _Dear Mark,_

 _While Tom and I don't make it a habit to read most of the things that are written about us, a little birdie pointed us in the direction of your article. Both Tom and I are very grateful for the emotional sensitivity you showed in the way you reported our story. While we are private people and we don't really like to talk about ourselves that much, you made it easy and relatively painless. "Admiral Scott" told me to tell you he's thankful as well. We certainly wouldn't rule out meeting again in the future, given this experience. Best wishes._

 _Rachel_

Happy days.

* * *

 _A/N1: Probably a bit different from your average epilogue, but hopefully still interesting. Trying to answer some questions about what it's like living after the virus, as well as how their lives developed._

 _A/N2: Mark Lewis also features in the sequel to this story which I have now finished planning out, but haven't even started writing. So, don't expect me to post anything soon, although I do still plan to post a sequel. For those wondering, his cousin Charlie is Commander Charlotte Richardson of HMS Talent._


End file.
